LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf ....Y.3... 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




' She stands alone by the water, 

Her playmates far across. 
With her apron rich in woodland trove 
Fresh buds, and freshened moss." 



Pag-e 114. 



EDITH. 



A POEM IN FOUR PARTS. 



BY 



LAVINIA P. YEATMAN. 
•I 




'#''!oFVV-,"c!'h^^%^ 



9 -|§8"2 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 



y3 



Copyright, 1882, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & Co, 



DEDICATION. 



TO THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. 

In dedicating to you this simple metrical work, in this our Bi-Cen- 
tennial year, I do so with feelings of deep anxiety. 

In that refinement of thought which has ever been a distinguishing 
feature among our earnest friends, a love for the beautiful and true 
is ever present. 

The beautiful sometimes may lead away from simplicity, and in our 
deep love for the truth we have feared to offer a free expansion to 
anything that might unfold into imaginative work. 

Yet in this age, when "the poets of the world" have touched almost 
every chord of truthful earnestness with a beauty which commands 
our unity of feeling, we have not failed to render them our sympathy 
and admiration. 

Of " Edith" I will say its chief qualities are its truth, and its ad- 
herence to " the vital principles of our Society." The quiet trouble of 
the child, her prayers, and their conclusion, are no imaginary idea, but 
were the real, life experience of one whose whole after-life was 
strengthened by it, and I have felt it to be a duty to throw it into this 
form, that " an olden lesson of faith" might be again recalled among us. 

THE AUTHOR. 
3. 



EDITH 



PART FIRST. 

Ever thy far thought fills thy land, O Penn ! 

The " blue skies" tell us thy glad, wondering joy ; 
Clear spring thy " plentiful waters ;" glade and glen. 

Rich- cultured, breathe " thy peace;" the "south winds" coy 
O'er broad, brave cities float ; while high and deep 

Thy struggles for the holier truth men see, 
And steadfast as thy soul's superior sweep 

Hold they thy gifts. Freedom, Equality ; 

Thy grandeur hath outlived all calumny ; 

And o'er thy people broods the prophecy 
Of thy sad spirit born, — " If Friends will keep 

To God in Justice, Mercy, Truth innate. 
Their foes will be their footstool ; if these sleep. 

Their heirs, and mine too, will be desolate ;" 

Grave words, which figure man's and type a nation's fate. 

Penn s Letter, 1682. 

I* 5 



EDITH. 

It was little Edith Aubrey- 
Sitting low upon her stool, 
With books, and dolls, and wealth of lore 

Around her, playing school ; 

Scarce heeding word or low reply. 

As passed the quiet converse nigh, 

Till thus, by childish instinct led. 

She taught the Golden Rule. 

By a window, gravely thoughtful, 

Anna sat, her busy hand 
Over boyish raiment gliding. 

Renovating break and band, 
With that shrewd, and apt precision. 

Mothers haply may command. 

And nigh, with easy, lounging aif. 
In cushioned comfort resting, 

With slippered feet on foot-rest rare, 
(Rights national investing). 

Sat Morris, earnestly the while 
The Daily News digesting. 

Hushed lay the pleasant room, and bright. 
No draperies dim revealing 



EDITH. 

The smile of that pale winter day ; 
But backward thrown, all golden gay 
The sun, with mild, familiar play, 
Breaking through cloud-ranks far away, 

Came, mellowing floor and ceiling. 
With prying glance defining close 

Grave lines, and dainty feeling; 

Where warm, and fresh the carpet threw 

Its neat design, in keeping. 
In neutral tint, and lifting leaf, 

With the calm hush upcreeping, 
While flashed the cheerful fire aglow. 
Where Tabbie, with her breast of snow 

Upturned, lay cosy sleeping. 

Where — neatly framed on soft, gray wall, 

Enwreathed with tendrils slender 
Of clematis, and forest -leaf 

In autumn-tinted splendor. 
He shadowed scenes whose old renown 
Art-taste so loves to trace, and crown 
With reverence wondering, tender, 
The beautiful of classic art, — 
That strange environment of heart 



8 EDITH. 

With the dread unknown, — grasping still 
Through marbled form, through thought's high skill, 
To symbolize the eternal will 
Nor man nor Art may render. 

Where — winningly to student eye 

Ranged book-shelves, crowded over 
With works whose sterling worth revealed 
The mind-tone to the household sealed, 
Traced he choice names from fancy's field ; 
Whilst Penn and Barclay, EUwood, Fox, 
Quaint bound, yet solid as the rocks 
The winds of Syria blew upon. 
With tender care encircled shone. 
Seemingly yet with mild concern 
The minds of comrades to discern, 
Who round in modern tone and dress, 
Told thought's enlarged expansiveness. 
Oh, long may Quaker heart revere 
The honored names, the tenets clear, 
Which stamped an age to virtue dear. 

So glided on, with peep and flash, 

The sun from form to cover, 
Till close by Anna's work-stand staid 
He paused, 'neath trifles overlaid, 



EDITH. 

Tracing on delicate leaf displayed 

'*The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" 
(The charmed float of its misty power 
Thrilling each nerve through the reader's hour), 
As it lay on the open, kindred page, 
Where grand Isaiah's lines engage 
The faith which woke the prophet fire. 
And brooded by the lone, weird sea, 
Kindling the secret rapt desire 
Which guides the after-harmony. 

Thought-freighted passed the still hour by. 

Each wrapt in their ideal, — 
The silent charm conjecture weaves 

Whilst challenging the real 
Oft throws from iron bars a song 
Angels might stoop to bear along. 

ANNA. 

"The last page read? Then, Morris, comes 

The light task to review them, 
My thoughts the while have studying ranged." 

MORRIS. 

''Retrace thy thoughts; even though estranged 

They be, thou canst imbue them 
With interest, Anna," 



lo EDITH. 

ANNA. 

^^ Thanks, my friend ; 
Yet on thy cherished views might trend 
Their tone^ did I pursue them. 

'^ Couched in such changeful, varying guise, 

Thought comes, so quickly fading, 
I can but catch its central truths ; 

The added outlines aiding 
And rounding up each point, I lose 

With each successive shading. 
And thus thy words of yesternight 

Have been with me, and truly 
As still I trace Art's noble gift 
To purer heights the mind to lift, 
I see the passionate human will 
So regal, dominant, while still 
Its heroism holds a thrill 

Which charms one all unduly. 
Darkly, I see this shadow fall, 
Where the divine should rule in all 
The efforts of man's life, — his call — 
Well, stay thy Miews,' my thought may be 
An atom on thy mind's broad sea, 

Stemming some wave unruly." 



EDITH. II 

She spoke and smiled as, smiling, he, 

With mock obedience bending. 
Assumed an attitude to hear. 
Then serious, as a light more clear 
Came up, and filled the large dark eye. 

She thus her point defending : 

ANNA. 

"I've weighed my thought, and this must be 

The resume I proffer thee, — 

He who uplifts our earth-bound lives 

To the Christ-words truth its beauty. 
Touching the delicate folds within 
The holier Life, till self and sin 
Lie hushed, as the rich communings stirred 
By the unseen Love in the soul are heard, 
He who so comprehends, but sees 
The chord which binds the harmonies 
In the grand ^.dvance of time, for him 
The higher homage ne'er shall dim; 
Whilst wealth of Art, or wealth of thought, 
If heedless or opposing brought, 

Takes lower rank of duty. 

"Art needs the sweet Truth's spoken strength; 
Not through her clouded niches 



ti 



EDITB. 

Should float this, all-controlling reach 
Of human passion, guiding speech, — 

World-lore but half enriches, — 
But that grand hymn God gives the soul 

(Whose love-throb, richly thrilling 
In intimate relation, all 

Creation's pulse, and filling 
Our own life with communion touch,) 

Demands its true instilling, — 
Demands that man shall comprehend. 

In meaning clear and true, that breath 
So breathed in him when, Eden-born, 

He drank the wine of Life beneath 
The covering of a joy so rare, — 

The primal blessing, ^ All is good,' 

Filling (an essence understood) 
The love-lit glory everywhere. 

" Our poet-heart dreams wistfully 

With an uncertain yearning ; 
While intellect stamps all to-day 

With its bold, eager learning ; 
And earth-love holds its idol, earth. 

So high, all higher spurning : 
Yet each may read, must read, with eyes 

More clear, the truth, that He whose will 



EDITH. 

Moulds warmth and being, touching all 

With sovereign beauty, yet will fill 
His creature man with finest sense 
Of spiritual intelligence, 
Stamping his intellectual course 
With higher power than reason's force, 
And give to him the rapt delight 

Of conscious intercourse, as when 
The Hebrew prophets bent before 

His mighty guiding presence then." 

Half pausing as her earnest word 

Touched a far thought, whose vivid glance 

Turned back to meet the indistinct 
Relations, resting in the trance 

Of far-forgotten time, again. 

True to her purposed will, her quiet views advance 

*'Thy favorite poet take. His thought 
Grandly his laurels all have bought ; 
He makes the warm pulse spring again 
With pride, with triumph, with disdain, 
Yet still through all one rich refrain 
Binds down to earth, the sensate wealth 
Of image, tone, precludes that health 



13 



14 



EDITH. 

Whose sentient, near, perceptive line 
Lifts, o'er our earth-loves, the divine; 
O'er manly quest, the holier right. 
I cannot see why thought should be 
E'er moulded by a bygone night ; 
The principles of love and light 
Within the soul, so clear and free, 
Build far a broader plane to-day 
Where rest the Christ-born purity, 
And all of earth within us may 
Bathe in that Life whose ripples still 
Float, wave-like, upwards towards the pure 
Perfection of the eternal will." 

MORRIS. 

''Why, Anna, my favorite well might stand 
Dismayed, if from thy judging hand 
Came forth the power to crown with bays 
The triumph of his loftier lays. 
But deemest thou that the poet's range 

Of far-seen thought, of fancy's reach. 
In soberer tints should interchange 

With wisdom that the prophets teach ?" 

ANNA. 

"True grandeur in an artist's thought 
From simplest truth is clearest caught, 



EDITH. 

Moulding the imagined, all design 
Takes color, tone, from truth inwrought, 

For, born in light, she is divine. 
Yes, Morris, from the poet's pen 
Should glance the force of prophet ken, 
For his high gift of artist dower 
Takes from divinest life its power ; 
If true to nature, still he draws 
His life-tide from God's perfect laws. 



" I take a deep delight in all 

My poet friends, and hail the call 

To art-life as a nobler road. 

Where thought refined, refines the good ; 

And eagerly I yearn to find 

In each that winsome glory 
Which fills the triune life in us, — 

Our full Life with their story. 
There are whose high uplift of song 
Bears one in rapt delight along 

Fresh, new, their wisdom hoary ; 
There are who trail their plumes in earth, 
So loosely shaming nobler birth. 
Aping the Paphian's poor employ, 

His honeyed charms pursuing ; 



15 



1 6 EDITH. 

Ah ! minds of pure and delicate mould 

Such false draughts oft are rueing. 
I scorn the weakness that would hold 
In this rich age the meagre gold 
Which old Parnassus might enfold." 



MORRIS. 

'^Ah ! Anna, with Anacreon's odes 

Came in the high encrownal, 
Where Art-life joined in warmest flush 

The Bacchante's lush endownal ; 
I doubt if judgment pure as thine 
Can Cytherean spells untwine, 
Or guide to-day the myrtle-vine's 
Soft, witching, wide renownal; 
Truth, self-denying, hides her worth, 
While trailing wings drop down to earth. 
And, dust-encumbered, loose enfold 
Rude sense of virtue as of old." 

ANNA. 

''Nay, if 'twere rude, then, Morris, all 
Its wrongful influence might fall ; 
But silvered, plausible, refined, 
False beauty wins and warps the mind. 
Take now this work, a favorite thine" 



EDITH. 17 

(She lifted from a table nigh 

A book of rhymed melody); 
*' Those reaches of sublimer thought, 
So quaintly by its heroine taught, 
Subside in tints Arcadian caught. 
The self-poised, resolute design 
Drops humbly bound at Love's sweet shrine. 
As though a woman's best estate 
But fits her for a cooing mate, 
The high, full grandeur life should wear 
Scarce recognized in resting there. 
Pulsing the old barbaric throe, — 

The same dark fate that Herod prest 

To matchless Marianne's breast. 
Type of the world of long ago. 
Ah ! selfish love makes ne'er atone. 
We tread the wine-press all alone ; 
Singly the pathway must be trod, 
Bearing our records up to God. 
And when I see young spirits bending 
Over these thoughts, and Fancy lending 
Her gilded plumes to crown it truth, 
I mourn o'er poesy and youth." 

Lightly he laughed, — ''Why, Anna, much 
Have I enjoyed the author's touch, 



1 8 EDITH. 

Bringing the grotesque and the true, 

In exquisite proportions, through 

The wildest whims chivalrous sense 

E'er drew of glory's vain pretence. 

So lightly glides the scenic roll, 

The sequel but sustains the whole. 

Nay, though to earth these plumes be prest, 

I claim my poet grandest, best ; 

Contented with the earth-seen real, 

I leave untouched the far ideal." 

Mirth laughed in Morris Aubrey's eye 
Whilst waiting for the grave reply, 
Which slow, and with a shade of pain, 
Challenged his ready thought a^ain. 

ANNA. 

'^Thou shamest me with thy lightsome strain. 

No published work but carries weight, 

Controlful of another's fate ; 

While reverencing the grandly true 

We honor self, an honor due 

To our high calling and to God. 

Lifting our own sublimer real. 

What is it but to live the ideal ? 

This dim-seen, mythic, dread ideal. 



EDITH. 

Which is but Christ-truth, 'tis so odd 
How man accepts the baser birth. 

"What made a Bayard, Sidney, grand, 
But this, the holding 'neath command 
Each earth-drawn yearning ? Lived they not 
The very word that Jesus taught ? 
Nathless the gild of romance thought ? 
This glaze romantic, does it add 
To manhood's worth? 'Tis but the quiver 
Of self-love rippling through and through, 
Like moon-smile on a sleeping river. 
Where hides the whirlpool dim from view, 
Keeping its records drear and sad. 

" Yet holier grows twin Life and Art, 
And as the Christ-light fills the world 
A delicate beauty, mild, intense, 
Redeemed from many a dread pretence 
That clouds the earlier Renaissance, 
(Dread monkish horrors, dim defined, 
To agonize the shuddering mind 
As dark Murillo's gloomy art, 
Chilling alike to brain and heart), 
Floats down, and in her haunts lies curled. 



19 



EDITH. 

A sweeter Christ-child lives and brings 
To all, the blessedness of things. 

'^ So read I calm and grave Lucile ; 

And follow Browning's musings, 
And trace in grand Aurora Leigh 

The future's tone of choosing, 
While through our nearer poet-tomes 
The in-life's fulness broader comes." 

MORRIS. 

^' These meet the present, Anna, these 

Are modelled to the modern tone ; 
The fire of ancient chivalry 
Long lingering died at last, and we 

Have coolly, calculating grown. 
Our Sidneys still are passing rare, 
The Luvois' crowd us everywhere ; 
Still twines the thread of human will 
Its charmed tension, easier still 
The path our rational powers make clear 
Than the rapt wisdom of the seer. 

*^Thy calm, cold Leigh hath winning grace, 
Yet when, through years of waiting, 

Her goal she gains, the sequel then 
Comes in that goal elating, 



EDITH. 21 

Thus giving to nature honor due ; 
The pulsings of the heart are true, 
Though far our Princess stoops to sue 

The weakness she was rating. 
Ah ! thought is power while reason sways 
Her actual through the golden blaze 
Wherein her truths are paraphrased." 

Gently she answers, — 

''But the word 
Which lightens reaso%stands preferred. 
Morris, can thought, slow born, evolved 

Through hours of doubt and labor, 
Be stronger help on life's tried path 

Than its more gifted neighbor? 
The spirit light ? the spirit word ? 
O'er all these rational senses heard, 

When knelt the Christ at Tabor ? 

'* My mother always said to me, — 

' Follow the clear impression ; 
That which brings peace to thy stilled soul 

Hold fast in thy possession \ 
For Christ-love ever whispers thee 

The word of intercession.' 



2 2 EDITH. 

*' I read more clear each finished year 
My childhood's cherished warning, 

And know the inward light is ne'er 
Subject to thought's adorning. 

It guides the accomplished thought, and calms 
With still small voice, its scorning." 

*' Well, Anna, list thee while I read 

How life to-day is waking, 
What germ lies 'neath this strange crusade 

That bursts with sudden breaking? 
This Temperance movement, born of Faith, 

Through faith its converts making." 

He read the Western story told, 
Where womanhood, with suffering bold, 

Assumed to rule the hour. 
Battling for husband, sire, and son 
Against the wine-fiend's malison. 
Battling with vice, each dark retreat 
She touched as Mercy's paraclete. 
With prayer of faith, till cold hearts beat 

Filled with a strong, new power. 

Pausing, he spoke, — 

^* Anna, there seems 



EDITH. 

To be a strange wild power in this ; 

What pity that the human mind 

Must range so far amiss ! 

What good can come from nerves upwrought, 

' Through sheer excitement, to a height 

Which in the cahn rebound of thought 

Must shame its actors? In my light, 
The moral strength whose centred force 

Of reason born is passion stilled. 
Alone can stay the drunkard's course 

Or maddened thirst, — in high resolve 
Is God's best will fulfilled." 

As when through summer tangles 
Springs the light brook gladly on, 

Its silvery-voiced music 

Taking daintier, dreamier tone. 

Till the ear, attuned to listening, 
Hath inattentive grown. 

Comes the light breeze dashing forward, 

Tossing wild the tuneful spray. 
And we turn, with sudden startle. 

At its changeful roundelay ; 
So this last concluding sentence 

Startled Edith at her play. 



23 



24 



EDITH. 

The voice that spoke was pained and sad, 

The low tones falling clear, 
With a half-doubting softness, sank 

Upon the young child's ear ; 
Their quiet pain just touched the point 

Where pity blent with fear. 

Lightly the doll resumed her place, 
The book passed from her hand. 
While with a quick observant grace 
She turned towards her mother's face, 

And with a keen eye scanned 
How far the sympathetic chord 
Of feeling met the thought and word. 

, ANNA. 

''Alas! we know not, Morris — all 
Have not this gift of self-control ; 

Calm reason might, yet seldom does. 
Resist the tempting bowl. 

Like a sick child should he be held 
Who perils thus his soul. 

'' It may be that a good unseen 
For the near future lies in this; 

Faith hath her perfect work ; to us 
Her ways may seem amiss. 



EDITH. 

Yet, thrice refined, her gold is weighed 
Even in a temperance crnsade. 

''I tell thee, not one prayer is lost : 
Some lone inebriate feels its power, 

Some shivering wife, some poor child crossed 
In life's best hopes ; her only dower, 

Perchance, a smile by angels given, 

As faith's sweet prayer is heard in heaven." 

Silent sat Edith there, — her hand 
Closed with a slow and quiet thrill, 

As the quick blood in crimsoned flood 
Passed upward, onward, till 

It bathed the fair young cheek and brow 
In its impetuous will. 

Silent she sat, — all undefined 

Crowded in close review 
Shadows of things unseen, refined 

By child-thought, ever vivid, true. 
And sweeping o'er her eager mind 

In pictures infinite and new. 

Veiled by a terror indistinct 

Rose suffering, want, and childhood's pain ; 



25 



26 EDITH. 

She saw from little moaning lips 
The needed succor turned again, 

And in her heart a low, deep cry 
Of anguish echoed its refrain. 

Lightly the golden sunbeam fell 
Around her as it quivering played. 

Dancing in doubles, curled in rings, 

Through the pines graceful spraylets made. 

As restless in the rude west wind 

The tall boughs by the casement swayed. 

Oft had she pleasant converse held 

In play-thought with the changeful shadow, 

Peopling the creep of sheen and shade 
With frolic forms of wood and meadow, 

Who, deep in folk-lore's mythic rites, 
Laughed back imagined child delights. 

Now danced the rippling shades unseen ; 

Her large dark eye, dilated, saw 
One scene of secret pain, — but one 

Had Edith's life; its iron law, 
Unknown to all, was hers alone, 

And woke and mingled with her moan. 



EDITH. 

Her father's voice low answer gives, — 
*'It will not do, nay, Anna, nay; 

Thy faith, so trustful, only lives 
In hope unfounded, stern to-day. 

Demands her truths undoubted, clear. 

We may not pour in wisdom's ear 
The theories of fancy's play. 

'^ Man knows, yet glories in his shame ; 

Self-willed, defiant. Will he turn 
With a fixed purpose from his ways 

For prayers and tears? Nay, from the urn 
Which holds their dust will come the cry, 
^ These might, but would not.' Man, perforce, 
Can turn the torrent's giant course, 
And all subdued, by wire and will, 
Bring nature's occult forces still; 
Yet, scorning conscience, love, or right. 
This vice, once learned, ne'er yields its might." 

Now uprose Edith Aubrey 

From her corner, from her play. 
The dark-eyed child whose merry laugh 

Made home's glad echoes gay. 
The darling of the homestead hearth, 

The welcomed bud of May. 



27 



28 EDITH. 

She passed around her father's chair, 

And, leaning by his side. 
Her arm around his neck she threw. 

And earnestly replied, — 
''Papa, was God's best will fulfilled 

When Uncle Alan died? 

" Oh ! don't thee know how hard he tried; 

He tried all summer long; 
He would not go to any place 

For fear he might do wrong. 
Thee knows how much thee talked to him, 

And helped him all along. 

" Oh, papa ! I can see him now. 
How, when his friends would come 

And coax, and coax him out with them. 
He'd seem as he were dumb ; 

He'd only say, ' Thanks, comrades, but 
My duty lies at home. ' 

''And mamma said that it was hard, 
When all his friends were going, 

To stay at home and study books. 
And translate Virgil, knowing 

That every one would ask for him 
At picnic and at rowing. 



EDITH. 

*'And he was always good, and then 

When in the harvest weather 
He ran the reaper, and I went. 

We always were together ; 
I brought him water from the spring, — 

I did not mind it, either. 

** He took it always with a smile. 
And seemed as he were thinking ; 

He'd say, 'As Kirjath-Sepher's gift 
Comes this cool, pleasant drinking;' 

And he would look so sad sometimes, — 
He seemed to fear his thinking. 

''And then thee knows Maud Merrill came, 
And coaxed him all the morning 

To her reception. Oli ! he went ; 
He had not any warning 

They would have wine " 

MORRIS. 

"Hush, Edith, child; 
Don't talk so, love ; thy words are wild." * 

EDITH. 

" Papa, she bade him pledge with her, — • 
(I heard him say so after,) — 
3* 



29 



30 



EDITH. 

To pledge the bride a happy life 
And wedding's blessings waft her. 

She ruled him with her pleasant words, 
She shamed him with her laughter ; 

He told me, papa, all these words. 
He told me of it after. 

" That day he took me in his arms. 
And said, ' Sweet Edith, dearest, 

In that life opening to thee now 
Treasure these words thou hearest. 

And always hold them in thy heart 
Among thy very nearest : 

*' ' Don't give or taste one drop of wine. 

Don't give it unto any; 
Pray God to keep thy spirit clean. 

And be a friend to many ; 
Teach poor weak man wine holds a curse 

Will make a wretch of any.' " 

The quivering red lips hushed, the arms 

Of fond love clasped her tightly, — 
" My Edith, love, 'twas wrong in me 
To speak of this, not heeding thee. 
And wake thy grief so lightly. 



EDITH. 

Don't sob so, child ; such thoughts as these 

Are not for merry childhood. 
Come, get thy cloak, we'll out and walk 

Away to the frosty wildwood. 
We'll gather the nuts, we'll gather the leaves; 
We'll see where the woodchuck's cabin heaves 
We'll chase the squirrel who loves to steal 
From Edith's stores his coveted meal; 
We'll track the fox who barked last night. 
And gave my Edith so much delight. 
Come, pet." 

EDITH. 

*' Oh, papa ! let me tell. 
Thee knows he loved me so, — so well." 

MORRIS. 

''Why, all love, Edith. Hush, forego; 
Don't sob so, child." But nestling low. 
The curled head on his heart was pressing. 
The pent pain surged a full confessing. 

EDITH. 

" Oh, papa ! yes, please let me tell. 
That night it rained he was so wild, 
He called Maud Merrill Satan's child. 



31 



32 



EDITH. 

A beautiful fiend, and bade her tear 
The serpent's coil that bound him there. 
He said it wound him round and round, 

It was the serpent of the still ; 
And he screamed at the thunder's sound, 

And bade the lightning do its will. 
Papa, it was so terrible. 
I could not sleep, and mamma met me 
Close by his door. She would not let me 
Go speak to him ; but next day, when 
He grew so calm, I kissed him then. 
And he told all these words to me. 

'' Papa, would God not love him then? 
Wouldn't God love him when he was 
So sick and sad? I'm sure He would ; 
For Jesus says that God is good. 
He is so good, say, would He pain 

Any one, papa? Would He fling 
Dear Uncle Alan from Him, just 

As if he was a wicked thing. 
Into a fire that never dies, 
And burns and burns?" 

Her eager eyes, 
Aflrighted, gazed into his own, 



EDITH. 33 

And her voice sank until the ear 
Scarce caught the trembling undertone. 

MORRIS. 

**Why, Edith, child, where didst thou hear 

Such words as these? No, darling, no; 
God loves us all ; He would not cause 

The vilest thing to suffer so. 
Who scared thee, child, with these dark laws? 
I thought so guarded was thy youth 
That naught but clearest, simplest truth 
Could meet thine ear. Yes, God is good ; 
Jesus well knew and understood 
His great, grand love that gathers all." 

EDITH. 

*' Why did he talk so, papa, then ? 

He is their minister ; they say 
He's a great preacher. Katie says 
People do crowd to hear him preach. 
And there is nobody can teach 

As he does every Sabbath-day." 

MORRIS. 

''Who is it, Edith? tell me, pray. 

What hast thou heard, and when, and how?" 



34 



EDITH. 

EDITH. 
** Papa, does thee remember now 
When Maud was sick, — so sick and pale 
After he died ? We called one day \ 
Mamma felt best to drive that way 
From meeting, some kind words to say ; 
And while we waited for her, then 
Katie asked me to come and see 
Her new wax doll, and I asked thee. 
And we ran into Ethel's room. 
Their minister was there ; indeed, 
I could not help but hear him when 
He spoke so stern, and I stood still 
Till Katie drew me out again. 
He said these words: '■ God made some men, 
From the beginning of the world. 
Sinners who would do wrong; condemned, 

In fires of wrath they would be hurled ' 

Oh ! I can't bear to say the rest." 
The young cheek curdled with its pain. 
''Don't tell itj" and the father prest 
The fair child to his heart again. 



EDITH. 35 



EDITH. 

" I cried, and Ethel came to me. 
She said I was a queer child, too, • 
To notice things, and bade us go; 

And Katie took me back to thee : 

I did not care to see her doll. 

Although it was so beautiful." 

MORRIS. 

*' Poor heart, thy happy hour was lost, 

And his mind clouded in the thrall 

Of deeper lines by darkness crossed. 

But couldst thou feel such words were true?' 

EDITH. 

*' Oh, papa ! no. I always pray 

When I think of them, and God takes 

The ugly feeling all away ; 

When I ask Him, He always makes 

A blessing round me while I play. 

I did not tell it to any one ; 

It pained me, and I always know 

I must not give another pain, 

Nor let an unkind word remain 



36 



EDITH. 



Which I would not take back again : 

Mamma says Jesus tells us so. 
I love Him, papa, for He says 

Children should follow Him below." 

Brightly the clear eyes answering gazed 

Into his own, with sadness fraught. 
He rose, — '^ Here, Anna, take thy child. 

For thine she is in word and thought." 

''For such the Saviour's fight was fought," 
Said Anna, smiling through her tears, — 
" With such His kingdom yet will own 
But one far-reaching monotone. 
The Christ revealed in love alone." 

Out in the sunset shadows. 

Where the gold glint glimmered and flushed 
From the tall tree-tops to the crimsoning clouds. 

And the low winds sobbed and hushed, — 
Sobbed and hushed to a sleeping moan, — 
Passed Morris Aubrey, oppressed, alone. 
He heard not the wind, and he saw not the sky, 
But he thought, -'Are these nearer to truth than I? 
What is the faith these true hearts feel? 
Is it born of the light? Is it human zeal ? 



EDITH. ■ 37 

Does the living love of the unseen press 

Nearest to man in his nothingness? 

Are the grandeur of reason, the power of brain, 

But links in an intimate, dim-seen chain 

To a something beyond ? And what was He 

Who taught in such grand humility 

The crowds of listening Galilee ? 

To me He is brother and friend, — true guide. 

What was He else ? Was He more beside ?" 

Ah ! once in a true heart's life must come 

The question, the answer, that leads us home. 

The moonlight lay on the meadow. 

The bare trees, and the snow, 
And the sparkle of stars in the upper sky 

Were mirror' d in light below, 
And the restful sleep of the beautiful night 

Sank silently and slow. 

Where the light drift lay in the hollows, 

And the dark hill loomed on high, 
And the hoar-frost wove its delicate work 

'Neath the cold watch of the sky. 
There were purity, peace, — a holy twain, — 

In the stilled hour gathering nigh. 
4 



38 EDITH. 

And Edith knelt by the window, 

In the silentness all alone, 
And she gazed long on the eloquent sky, 

Each star familiar grown. 
Till the quiet hush of the heart above 

Sank gradual in her own. 

For thought was busy with Edith, — 
Child-thought so quick and bright, — 

While the trembling chords of a definite love 
Slow drifting from her sight 

Came back with a strong and resolute will 
To her trusting heart to-night. 

And she prayed the prayer that Jesus taught 

To the lone ones by His side. 
And she prayed her own sweet prayer 

For all she loved beside. 
And, ''Oh, God.! bless Uncle Alan, 

And forgive him when he died." 

Upon her cheek the tear-drop 

In the moonlight glistened, shone ; 

Say, was the young child suppliant there 
In the moonlight all alone ? 

Did an unseen power beside her bent. 
Uphold and guide His own ? 



EDITH. 

Who saw the forms on Tabor's height, 
When, weak with shrinking sorrow, 

Unclosed before the Master's sight 
That dark sin-burdened morrow? 

The taunt, the pain, tlie cross, the gloom. 
Of Calvary's fearful horror? 

But eyes accustomed to unclose 
In childlike trust before Him, 

With faith, which scoffed His human foes, 
Yet knew the God-head o'er Him, 

And saw revealed the prescient power 
Whose S'trength alone upbore Him. 

Oh ! poor weak eyes, and weaker hearts, 

So dull, and slow believing 
Our birth-gift, as the Saviour did. 

Like Him through faith achieving 
The glorious soul-life's rightful dower 

Which waits man's full receiving. 



39 



PART SECOND. 

In the beautiful light of the soft spring sky, 

When the sunbeam is here, and the shower is nigh ; 

When the thrill of a beauty, warm, conscious, and still, 

Reflects on our being, lies fresh on our will ; 

When the air is afloat with a passionate weight, 

As the song-bird re-echoes the call of its mate. 

We pause, 'mid the richness of life, do we not? 

At the bound of our pulses, and question our thought. 

Whence cometh this ripple of joy ? Is our mood 

But the impulse astart from the sensuous blood ? 

Do we walk in our animal fulness and pride, 

Chance atoms evolving from chances allied ? 

When the universe moved to the chime that was rung 

At the birth-hour of time; when the heavens were hung 

In their wondrous completeness; when matter and 

mind. 
In atomic progression, kind clinging to kind, 
Moved on, — were we left, as a finished aside, 
To the grand correlation of forces applied ? 
Does science teach wisely ? Is mankind akin 
With a life that is not life ? Nay, turn thee within, 
40 



EDITH. 



41 



O soul ! for thine answer : how grandly above 
The pain of thy thought moves the confident love 
Of the Christ-word inspoken, — '' One key still alone 
Moves the hinges of Truth, to its grandeur upgrown ; 
Then shall science my deep works unravel, — the key 
Of the psalmist shall open thought, science, decree. 
Until Light shall evangelize; rest thou in me." 

Fair falls the spring-time beauty 
O'er the favored land of Penn ; 

Her mountain heights, her interludes 
Of broad, bright valleys rolling on 

Through cultured downs, by solitudes ♦ 

Of wild, sweet grandeur, calmly thrown 
Ever in curves whose lines express 
The force of ruling gentleness. 
Wake to the spring bird's call again. 
No sullen peaks, untrod of men. 
Lifting their ramparts, bleak and bare, 
Defiant to the will and care 
Of ages long, look out above 
His glad Sylvania's trust of love. 
Gentle her outlines, broad her wealth. 

From nature's generous garners drawn ; 
Her founder's prayer for peace and health 

Moves o'er her sunset and her dawn. 
4* 



42 



EDITH. 

Through all her breadth, the regal pride 

Of Art, and Labor open wide 

Her vast resources ; in her gift 

The honest claims of will, and thrift, 

And clear-eyed virtue stand supplied. 
The pressure of an outward need 
Builds industry's more noble creed. 
The presence of rewarding power ; 

The conscious freedom of the soul 
To speak, to act, to guide the hour 

As thought, and truth may bid it roll : 
Whilst clang of hammer, and of steel 
Ring outward with a stirring peal, 
And flash of forge, and shuddering blast 
From the dark mines deep caverns cast. 
And the quick shuttles hum and clank 
From inland rill or river's bank. 
Each in their skilled enlightenment 
Drink of the quiet blessing blent 
In the mild Quaker's firm intent. 
Who moulded statesmen, law, and thought 
By the grand light his precepts taught. 

And fair o'er Chester's broad expanse. 
As drop her quiet homesteads down 

On many a graceful slope, the glance 
Of sunflash falls on fields of brown. 



EDITH, 

Wherein the green of later hours 
Is redolent of life and flowers ; 
And all the iridescent hues 

Her rich kaleidoscope reveals, 
Are cinctured by a graciousness 
Where peace enfolds with gentlest stress 

The all that from her spirit steals. 
Fair Chester holding firm the name 

That Pierson spake in Upland town, 
What time the glad Proprietor, 

In manhood's early prime, looked down 
Entranced, upon the noble bay, 

The lovely river rolling on, 
While far, and bold, the woodlands' play 
From Tinicum to Elkland lay. 
With scarce a measured rood, that day 
Trod here the red man, friend, and friend. 
With the mild Miquon, time could lend 
No shadow o'er his soul's high power 
To lessen truth ; the holy hour 
Which crowned the compact grandly done 
'Neath the broad elm of Kensington 
Has thrown a glory high, and true 

As ever burst on minds of men. 
When equal rights, a birthright due, 
"V^eighed in a love, a justice new. 

Rose o'er the world by deed of Penn. 



43 



44 



EDITH. 

In the gray light of the dawning, 
When the stars grow pale o'erhead, 

When the silent night retreating 

Bears away each dark repeating 
Of world-wide scenes of dread, 

Then, with rich health upward bounding, 
Springs the farmer from his bed. 

Deep the sleep of pleasant dreamland, 

With a conscience all at rest, 
Whilst the morning's gift of blessing 

On his pillow lightly prest. 
Gentle peace and sweet contentment 

Yield to him their calm behest. 

Rough the dress the morning brings him. 
Brown the hand, but clear the eye 

Which, with first glance looking southward. 
Scans the weather, reads the sky. 

With a philosophic balance 
Weighing nature's augury. 

Then to duty, where the great barn 
Sends its summonings to please, 

As the cattle, snuffing outward. 
Herald spring upon the breeze, 



EDITH. 45 

And the doves with dallient cooing, 
In orchestral cadence wooing, 
Flutter nigh, and rest at ease. 

Now from tenant homes anear them 
Come the farm-hands gathering round ; 

Stalwart forms and honest faces 
Drop in posts familiar found : 

Strong Erin with her humor shrewd, 

Poor Afric, patient, skilled, subdued, 
In meek dependence bound. 

How quails the heart, and quail it must, 
'Neath the dread thought that God is just ; 
That through His calm, unvarying laws, 
Still Retribution follows cause ! 
Oh ! dark-browed race, the lines are cast. 

The past has told her story; 
The present veils a clouded brow 

Before the future's glory. 

What eye, with prophet skill, the page 
May read which shadows o'er us? 

Who sees far down the coming age 
The bold events before us ? 



46 EDITH. 

Shall the grand principles of truth, 
Irradiate with eternal youth, 
Control its gladdened chorus ? 

If well our nation's honor weighs 

True right divinely sifted. 
From our free shores may bravely pass 

A people nobly gifted 
To flaunt again the aegis bold 

Which ancient Egypt lifted, — 
Egypt, whose sealed mysteries, 

To the far world strangely shrouded. 
Wait in their savage grandeur dumb 
For these in cultured strength to come, 

With clear eyes all unclouded, 
To move where Afric's teeming wealth 
Asks but the grace, the trained health 

Of brain and nerve, to build anew 
The wondrous promise of her youth. 
To join with glad acclaim the world-wide march of 
truth. 

Then to her Sphinx's riddle true, — 
Her Sphinx in thought-embodied might 
Imperishably watching all. 

As battling ages round her flew 



EDITH. 



47 



With time, and death, and man, and art, 

With mad Ambition's ghastly crew, 
With martyred myriads' loathing heart. 

Whilst buried cycles black'ning threw 
Their very memories apart. 
Lost, lost in retributive night ; 
Yet holding still her ghostly thrall. 

She counts, and seals, and waiteth long, 
Till, passed the oppressor's power of ill. 

Till, passed the long, dark night of wrong. 

The new light of that advent song 
Shall fill the accomplished time, and thrill 
The hollow hope of dumb despair. 

As thrills the past's deep sob, with the free hymns' 
glad prolong. 



For in that low command which ever 
Has haunting filled the ear of man, 
Rippling with an undying quiver 
Her jungles lone, her silent river, 
A low, sad moan which lulleth never, 
"Let the oppressed go free," we scan 
The hope within the untutored plan 
Which set the Sphinx's watch \ we meet 
The heart-groan to be free. 



48 EDITH. 

And true 
To that instinctive throb which set 

The unsolved wonder gazing down 
The indescribable abyss 
Of countless time, — while 'neath her feet 

Lie buried cities of renown, 
Waiting, as she waits, calmly through 
The long, long roll of years, to hear 

That whisper swell with deep'ning stress, — 
The thrill of Mercy on the air, 
''They come; the risen Christ is here; 

The Sphinx's riddle's solved, earth bears alone to 
bless." 

Read we our work, O patriot heart ! 

Calm moving in the later light. 
To urge adown the coming years 

The blessed rule of Right ; 
For lo ! the powers of olden wrong 

Are marshalling for the fight 
Which palsies' 'mid our nation's youth 
The force of independent truth, - 
And like the mesh Epeira winds 
Around her victims, seeks to bind. 
And back to cringing darkness roll 
The glad, free upspring of the soul. 



EDITH. 

Give we to hungering hearts the light 

Eternal goodness means for all, 
As human progress gathers might, 
And thought assumes its fuller height 

With life's enlarging hope, and call. 
Onward the bidden Good must tread, 

The myths of error dropping by. 
Strewing their stubborn Hydra dead 
As pebbles by the shores, where dread 

And dark their sullen shadows lie. 
Leaving untouched the spirit-grace 
God stamped on this down-trodden race. 
When lonely cane-brake, wild morass. 
Felt His uplifting presence pass. 
And inborn faith, with eyelids dim. 
Looked up unfalteringly to Him. 

May Afric lose it never ! 



Trace we the thought whose promptings kind 
Stirred Morris Aubrey's generous mind, 
As to their several tasks assigned 

His workmen to their duties passed ; 
And Lamar lingering behind. 

Smiled to the smile so freely cast. 
A small, slight man, with crippled knee, 
5 



49 



50 



EDITH. 

Whose face, in ebon blackness bound, 

Was radiant with that nature found 
Of such dark skin and honesty. 
A waif outcast from slavery, 

What time the railroad underground 

Throughout our shuddering country wound 
Its midnight posts, a lonely boy, 
With look that humble suffering gives, 
Sat with the hunted fugitives. 
A kind friend marked his fevered pain. 
And asked the sick child might remain. 
So where our Kennett hills drop down 

In easy culture, broad and free, 
To meet the slopes of Brandywine, 

And our meek friends move silently 
Through works of good, a kindly hand 
Led him to comprehend the grand 

And blessed boon of liberty. 
A pupil in our Quaker schools, 

The equal rights unconscious thrown 
From childhood's heart, oft builds a life 

To highest attributes, alone 
A loving reverence rendered he 
His boyhood's friends. "Lamar, for thee. 
See that the ploughing goes aright, — 
That hill-field should be done by night ; 



EDITH. 5 1 

And see that Patrick by the woods 
Sets that fence true. I go away, 
For this is Quarterly meeting day 
Thou knowest, and weighty matters may 
Detain us late. Thy work will be 
As usual, holding guardedly 
A watchful care as seemeth best ; 
Thy judgment will supply the rest." 

* * * ;jc ;f; * 

Up in the morning early. 

As the red tint fades from the sky, 
And the sweet breath born of the dawning 

Floats through the casement nigh, 
While the wild birds toss their matinee 

In musical reply, 
Sprang Edith, roused from her slumbers light 

By the glad strains sweeping by. 

She drank the joy of the morning. 

She drank of its life, and its love. 
And the warmth of a heart that is led aright 

Turns trustfully ever above. 
For the first rich thrill of thought should be 

To God a gift of love. 

And Edith knelt by the window, 
In the dim, sweet morning air, 



52 



EDITH. 

Telling the weight that her young heart felt 

In her daily secret prayer, 
While the pleading tones of her childish love 

Sank low on the stillness there. 

How little we know of the questioning thought 

That fills a young child's brain, 
As it ponders a phrase its ear has caught 

Over and over again ! 
It will tell a thing with gladness fraught, 

Yet seldom tells its pain. 

Somewhere on her ear had fallen, 

Somewhere carelessly given, 
''The drunkard shall never inherit," 

Never, *'the kingdom of heaven." 

And she breathed the prayer that Jesus taught 

His own at eventide. 
And she breathed her own sweet prayer 

For those she loved beside, — 
And, '' Oh, .God ! bless Uncle Alan, 

And forgive him when he died." 

The shout of her little brother 
At length comes up the stair, 



EDITH. 

And the softened call of her mother 

Of, "Edith, awake, prepare; 
Come play with the baby, darling, 

While I see to the morning's care." 

The dew-drop's glow on the lawn below 

Twinkled, and paled, and shone, 
As the breakfast-bell, with its summoning swell, 

Rang out a resolute tone, 
Swayed well by boyish hands, who gaze 

With awe at its lofty throne. 
At the farmer's board by the stroke of six 

Must the workmen's meal be done. 

The herds are fed, the oxen yoked, 

And patiently stand ''at hay;" 
The sheep, with a bound to the grassy field, 

From the fold have fled away, 
And careful hands have well performed 

The needs of the opening day. 

A pleasant place is the farmer's board. 
With the rich, ripe gifts of the summer stored, 
When woman's thought, and her guiding hand, 
Sees well to the means at her command, 

5* 



53 



54 EDITH. . 

Throwing a delicate care, and skill, 

O'er the crowding comforts which rise at her will 

From fruited bough, and freiglited soil ; 
And the charm the eastern Sibyl knew 
When the plenteous feast uprose to view 

(Though the golden springs told naught of toil), 
Is one her hand may bring anew. 

With gentle thought, and quiet smile, 

Paused Anna Aubrey there. 
Observant that each one around 

Received a generous share. 
How nature stamps with sovereign grace 

The lady everywhere ! 

Her hand, — it was not such an hand 

As fashion's role requires, 
Whose delicate, ethereal mould 

The moonlight ode inspires, — 
Though small and fair, yet knew it well 

To work out life's desires. 

The well-set head, whose pose betrayed 

Almost a pride unspoken, 
Gave to her look a dignity 

Of conscious power the token ; 



EDITH. 

The life-long rule of self-control 
Had all to calmness broken. 



55 



Had other hopes, and other scenes 

Allured the country maiden, — 
That gayer life the world unfolds, 

With dance, and music laden ; 
She might perchance have owned the charms, 

Of Thespis or of Haydn. 

For in the finely-moulded lips 

A something still was lurking. 
Which hinted, rather than expressed. 

The warm, impulsive working 
Of feelings, which to dare the whole 

Scarce bore the semblance of control. 



Yet in the dark eyes' calm repose, 

The wavy hair's smooth dressing, 
Spoke all that mild, collective grace 
We meet in the sweet Quaker face. 
Whose bonnet, plainly pressing, 
Folds inward, Truth's controlling light. 
Outward, the world's seductive might. 



56 EDITH. 

The span await ; no spot or stain 

Must soil the cosy carriage 
In which our quiet-minded friends 
Go forth as duty recommends, 

From meetings grave, to marriage ; 
And gathering without delay 
Comes now the usual bright display 
On *' Western Quarterly meeting day." 

A halo which must aye endure 

Floats round the mandate, '' Be thou pure ;" 

Pure, that thine inward life may be 

At one with God's sweet harmony; 

Pure in the outward, that another, 

Whose doubting faith falls wearily, 
May find, in looking on a brother. 

The higher law revealed in thee, 
The glory of the Christian name 
Unshadowed by a cringing shame. 
^ ^ ^ Hi * * 

The fields have won a shade of green, 

And, pale and few, the flowers 
Peep out by roadside and by hedge, 
Or, crannied by a rocky ledge, 
Where southward sweeps the woodland's edge. 

Await the May-time hours; 



EDITH, 

While budding leaf, and tassel fling, 
An odor of the early spring, 
A breath of faintest blossoming. 

From the low spice-sprouting bowers ; 
And the ripple of waters gliding fleet, 

With a musical tinkle comes the while, 

As the winding roads for many a mile 
Echo the tread of the horses* feet. 

And kind love speaks in the quiet smile, 
As distant friends sedately greet. 



A pleasant love of olden lore 

Aye lives within us, and we trace 

The first steps of the pioneer 
With grateful, acquiescent grace. 

While in their Father-life we read 

Mute deeds which speak a noble race. 



So with those grave-browed, earnest men 
Who came with Penn across the sea, 

To plant with such eff'ective will 

The seeds of Truth, for mankind free. 

Who tilled the soil so deep with prayer 
That ever their work must hallowed be. 



57 



58 EDITH. 

True to their memories comes a sense 

Which bids us, gentle Love, to lay 
Upon thy shrine a holier gift 

Than meets the casual glance to-day ; 
For faith had worked to perfect love 

Supreme for good in such as they. 

And from thy quiet heights, O Grove ! 

We glance o'er cultured field and wood, 
And trace the time when William Penn 

With gathered Friends devoutly stood, 
Selecting fitting sites to rear 

Truth's simple word in quietude. 
And by the humble Meeting-fane 

The School-house rose twin force for good. 

Far down thy valley's line we trace 

Where he with David grave, his friend, 
Ate of their humble meal ; the shade 

Of the grand trees might haply lend 
A fitting Sabbath rest as these 

Drew in the great Life beautiful, 
The great, wide, changeless love, which never knoweth 
end. 

While through his mind prophetic swelled 

That vision which his future held. 



EDITH. 59 

For clear in faith's full horoscope 

He saw his glad Sylvania rise, 
Meek Mercy crowning all her Truth 

With holiest justice, while her skies 
Smiled to the freeman's free-will gift 
The sweet heart-hymn, ''Love, love to God 

And man be truest sacrifice." 



Firm on their rock — the "Light within" — 
They stood, these workers, friend and friend, 

And built far up the stream of time 
The noblest truth,— it hath no end ; 

The force the Quaker drew to earth 

Moulds man and law, and still must lend 

The outward sure advance, a growthfulness sublime. 



And now, oh grave-browed sires, we stand 

Where you stood, in the glorious day 
Of human progress ; shall we come 

Our gifts in high-born hope to lay. 
Enshrined in prayer as true to life. 

As close to God as yours alway? 

Oh, beating hearts ! bend low ; He lists the while 
we pray. 



6o EDITH. 

In the quiet Quaker meeting, 

Sitting silently, and calm, 
While the soft, low breeze, 'mid the shading trees, 

Whispers a faint, sweet psalm, 
So soft, and low that the spirit athirst 

Heareth, and drinketh its balm. 

From open doors the freshening air 

Steals hushed, and listless through. 
Chasing the fires still lingering there. 

While, calm as Ophrah's dew. 
Sinks down within the honored walls 

The silence fitly due. 

Out-door, the voice of singing-bird 

Unrolls a listening pleasure. 
While the hush, and hum, of the bee's low thrum, 

Seeking her waxen treasure. 
All speak of the joy surrounding life 

In nature's stintless measure. 

Within, with mild, collected face. 

And hands in meekness folded, 
While downcast eyes, and reverent grace 
Feel "God is in His holy place, 

Be ye devoutly moulded/' 



EDITH. 6 1 



Sit maid and matron, sire and son, 
Before the great all-seeing One ! 

How deeply falls the silence, 
The calm, submissive silence, 
The hushed, deep, waiting silence. 
Of the Quaker meeting-house 1 



Above, along the galleries' line, 

On either side the centre, 
The elders of our Israel sit. 

Observing as they enter 
The younger members, who should walk 
Gravely, with no unseemly talk. 
Lest Friend's unsteadiness should mock 

The testimonies lent her. 



On benches, cushioned, plain, and neat. 
The large, wide building filling, 

The middle-aged, and younger meet, — 

Youth has its gallery, fair, and sweet 
Are those, who, mildly willing. 

Sit patiently, and wait the word 
God giveth when His call is heard. 
6 



62 EDITH. 

With sealed lips, and tranquil air, 
Centred in humble waiting there, 

Until the Life within arise. 
At length from galleries' midst arose 
A brother, on whose head the snows 
Of many winters rested well ; 
And as he spoke the light grew in his eyes, 

And, gathering force, his words with clear, full 
meaning fell : 



'*This world, my friends, is full of active thought; 
Creeds, theories, and forms usurp the place 
Of simple Christian truth ; the will of man 
So mystifies the faith that Jesus taught, — 
So shrouds the spirit-glory of His words 
With superstition, doubt, and weak debate, — 
That darkness, as a sad and sure result. 
Clouds up between our soul-life and our God. 



*' Man is a reasoning being, yet a light 
Of higher power is given, — a clearer word 

Is spoken to the soul ; and He who came 
To evidence this truth has shown to us 

How close is God's near love in that He came. 



EDTTH. 63 

*' For Jesus came a bearer of the Truth ; 

He lived that truth in every act and hour, 

And from His lips that truth, regnant with Life, - 

Fell with undying force. The touching love 

Of His grand Being as a magnet draws 

The soul within us to Him, reading there 

In light revealed the perfect will of God. 

** And this Truth, what was this which Jesus came 
To bear His witness to? Why did He lay 
His young, pure life down at the will of man, 
Rather than temporize or dim that truth? 

*' To manifest the love of God, He met 

In manly dignity, in spirit strength, 

The cross, the shame, the death ; yet shrank from this, 

And at the moment prayed the cup might pass. 

The shadow of the birth-life floated down 

Momently o'er His soul, then passed away ; 

For in His grand humanity He was 

Like as we are in flesh and blood, — a man. 

The man of Nazareth was babe and boy. 

In His pure mother's arms, and by the grace 

Of strict obedience to the voice of God, 

The still, small voice within. He knew not sin. 

And Jesus grew the Christ revealed to men. 



64 EDITH. 

" In this, His pure example, we behold 
The mission of His life, — submission, faith 
In God, and love to man ; in this the truth 
He bore His witness to was sealed and set ; 
In this His coming as the called of God, 
The prophesied of ancients, was fulfilled ; 
That union of the spirit, mind with God, 
Which man obedient to His will may know, 
Brings into being all that pure new life. 
The Christ born in the soul, the true Divine. 
And in His Life's Obedience here we see 
And recognize the power which saves from sin, 
And reconciles us to the Father. Here 
Is the atonement, in the yielding up 
All self and self-will to the will of God. 



*' Throughout the reasoning world, there runs a 

vein 
Of thought, which names Him merely born of 

man. 
Here is a point wherein no human mind 
Can teach another. God alone can give 
The inspiration which unfolds its truth. 
Spirit must open spirit; reason fails. 
Or, bound by her own struggles, blinds herself. 



EDITH. 65 

"Yet He personified the power of God, 

And man beheld His works. But did He 

claim 
Ever that He was God ? Nay, His grand aim 
Was to redeem from outward law ; to cleanse 
The inward sacrifice ; to draw away 
From all externals — from Himself; to bring 
Our whole life to a consciousness of power 
Concentrate with the Father. Jesus came 
Teaching a Truth so simple that the pride 
Of earth rejects it : that upon the rock 
Of God's revealed will stands firm His church, 
Whose beautiful accord makes all men free." 



Long fell his fluent words on ears 

Whose rapt attention followed still 
Point after point, explained at length, 
In all the fervid warmth, and strength 

Of calm conviction's simple skill. 
No bursts of florid eloquence, 
No studied arts, whose vain pretence 

May rouse the sense emotional, 
But clear in conscious dignity 
He led the listening thought to see 

In Christ the Christ-power known in all. 
6* 



66 EDITH. 

Again the deep, hushed silence, 

As, restful by the throne, 
Our human hearts seem'd gathered 

By a chorded love alone. 
In quiet calmness, self-possessed, 

A mother in our Israel now 
Arose, her bonnet lightly pressed 

Passed from her hand ; the even flow 
Of gentle words fall on our ear 
As, thankfully, we list the counsel falling clear : 

" When we go back, and read the records old 

Of dealings which the Almighty held with man. 
We learn God breathed in him the breath of Life, 

And he became a living soul, — the plan 
Of perfect wisdom here is fully laid. 
This living soul was in communion with 
Its heavenly parent, and it disobeyed, 
And heard that close reproof 'mid Eden's shades, 
* Adam, where art thou ?' for ^ Of all the trees 
Thou mayest freely eat but this, the tree 
Of the knowledge of good and evil.' Here we see, 
When we presume of our own wills to learn 
Of good and evil for ourselves, we earn 
The condemnation which self-will must meet. 
This is forbidden fruit, and Adam heard, 



EDITH, 67 

After he had transgressed, a voice which stirred 

A terror in his soul. Never before 

Had that reproof met him. We hear no voice 

Of condemnation till we sin ; then the voice 

That Adam heard we hear, its force we see. 

If thou doest well, accepted thou shalt be ; 

Do thou not well, sin lieth at the door, — 

Not Adam's sin, but our own sin. The creed 

Teaching original sin you will not find 

In all the Bible, friends. His peace of mind 

He lost through disobedience, just as we 

Who scorn God's perfect laws to-day rebuked shall be. 

Oh ! what instruction lies in this, my friends ! 

Let it be ours to listen and obey, 
Growing in spiritual growth towards 

The fulness of our God's appointed way. 
As fruitful branches of His living vine. 
Unto His laws in love let our whole lives incline." 



A deeper strength grew in our hearts 

As in her earnest words she laid 
Her gift before us. Faith imparts 

A blessing when its life is stayed, 

And with the love that gives, communion sweet is 
made. 



68 EDITH. 

Sank once again the silence. 

Did the rush of unseen wings 
Lowly, lowly o'er us bending, 
Softening, nearing, upwards wending 
With a musical unending. 

Sweep the listening spirit's strings? 
While the rapt prayer inly moving 
Bathes within the eternal loving, 
Bends beneath the fire of proving, 

In the calm, hushed meeting-house? 



Now one of younger years, whose face 
And pure, sweet eyes expressed the love 

That filled her life, with gentle grace 
Arose, and took the word that strove 

For utterance, and, warm and true, 

She breathed the Christ-life that her spirit drank 
anew: 

**Art thou in health, my brother? My sister, art thou 

clear ? 
Art thou in health before thy God, feeling His presence 

near ? 
Do little hindering things of earth cumber thy pathway 

here ? 



EDITH. 69 

" We stand before our Father's eye, we feel His guiding 
hand ; 

He gives us power His will to know, His wish to under- 
stand ; 

With gentle love He leads us still to follow His com- 
mand. 

** Oh ! looking on our secret hearts, what shall His eye 

unfold ? 
Bring we our talents used and bright,, bring we our 

burnished gold ; 
Bring we the loving, loyal faith He seeketh as of old ?" 

The sweet, clear, tremulous voice went on. 

And we who sat beneath its power 
-, Felt drawing round our inmost hearts 

The spirit of the hour. 
The sense of Life, the sense of Prayer, 
The Master's healing presence there. 

A fair young head bent humbly down, 

And vocal supplication rose. 
Thanks giving to the God of light. 
Entreaty that His word aright 

May fill our hearts, and so enclose 
Our fellow-man that peace renewed on earth. 
Love, and good-will to all may bring the blest Christ 
birth. 



70 



EDITH. 

An elder rose and said : '^ If Friends' minds now 
Are well relieved, it would be seasonable 

To close the shutters;" and they slowly fall. 
And either meeting, after a reasonable 

And waiting pause, proceed in reading all 
The queries and their answers. 

"Th' state of the society" gravely comes: 
" Friends are clear, in a good degree, 

Of words detractive, unity prevails. 
Yet it were well more guarded to be." 

*' Clear in the making or the sale we feel. 
Of what intoxicates. Friends should be 

Careful to guard our younger friends 
From the dangers of evil company." 

" Friends live within the bounds of their means 

And are just in the payment of debts, and try 
To rear in plainness of words and dress 

Their younger members, accordingly 
With the rules of Discipline, yet we own 

To a great departure, and hope that Friends 
Will bear in mind the Testimonies 

Which truth requires to bless her ends." 



EDITH. 71 

So passes the business; works of good, 

Calling for action, rise between; 
Aid for the oppressed Indian, aid 

For the Freedman, interest heart and scene. 
While a grave and thoughtful dignity 

Rests ever on word and tone and mien. 

Age gives her counsel, and youth her thought, 
A trembling voice oft meets the ear; 

The lip must speak when the spirit prompts, 
And the call of duty is close and clear. 

Glides on the hour, and centres adown 
Once more the silence, hushed, subdued. 

When the clerk's low voice in softened tone 
Gently announces "The meeting concludes." 



PART THIRD. 

ANNA. 

*' How beautiful the spring-time ! 

Life, I toss thy cares aside ; 
Let nature's glowing loveliness 

Awhile my thotlghts divide, 
While the thrush's song, and the plover's call,- 

Through the tremulous sweetness glide. 

'' To-morrow brings the queenly June, 

To-day May bids good-by. 
And Edith greets her first decade ; 
Their merry laugh fills all the shade 

As her comrades gather nigh. 

'^ For me an hour of idlesse falls, — 

I greet the spirit of nature well, 
As sweet the scent of a thousand blooms 

On the frolic south winds stoop, and swell. 
While I listen, the rustle, the spring of earth. 
Life calling to life, in its jubilant birth. 
The annual hymn to the great unknown 
From His glad recipients, breath and tone, 
72 



EDITH. 

Tuned to the key that rapture wakes 
Chord ing a sentient joy. Does it brfeak 

Through the long vibrations of countless space, 
Till the delicate roll of its finished whole 

Beyond our limits of sound, find place 
With the beautiful paean of Life redeemed? 

Ah, Life ! return with thy hidden love, 
Till its affluent fulness will draw the heart 

Of a unit world to its light above. 
Then shall the understood Christ-word be, 
As Jesus breathes its symphony, 
The grand Cabala to all in thee. 

"And life is joy, and the joy of life 
So quivers, and enters in all we see. 

As we fold the mammon of earth away, — 
As we open our souls to the sunshine free, — 

How can the will of the creature be 

Other than one with its harmony? 

How can the birthright of being be aught 

Than an exquisite joy, O God ! in thee ? 

" The delicate moss, the lichens gray. 
The veined stone beneath my foot. 

The tremor of gladness which fills the air, 
The tingle of growth in bud and shoot, 

7 



73 



74 



EDITH. 



The charm that the mute insensate holds, 

Read we not in each touch, and tint, and line, — 
How the Infinite Presence sublimes, and moulds 

Its normal fitness, its wise design. 
Its beautiful real, below and above ? 
Ah ! ever the force of unchangeable love, 

The near unseen, lies close, and clear, 
An aura of blessing to all things thus. 

What need of a fabled Pan to bear 
An intermediate charm to us ? 

*' But list, from the busy group I hear 

A call for me ; my fancy stays 
Her flight as laughing eyes draw near. 

How sweetly falls joy's golden haze 

On these young hearts ! A glad surprise 
To Edith and to all they plan. 
Be mine to mould the loftier man, 

That each life's hidden truth shall know its strength 
arise." 

Willie and Arthur, four and eight. 

Held counsel sage by the entrance gate. 

Along the drive, on either side, 

Maple and pine the shadows divide; 

Upwards a gentle smooth ascent 

To the fair bright home of the Aubreys went,— 



EDITH. 

A pleasant home of the olden time, 

With a varied beauty round it thrown, 
As art, and taste, with skill refined 

Studied with nature shade, and tone. 
But Arthur, and Willie, eight, and four. 
Pondered the question o'er and o'er. 
"I'm 'fraid grandfather won't like it, Willie; 
He'll say, 'Be discreet, boys, not silly;' 
But 'twould be real fun, too, though, 
Thee to play Archie, and me to play Joe, 
And be like troopers ; and Flora she'd go, 
She'd gallop to hear my horn just so," 



And a long, loud blast on a trumpet red 
Woke a sharp response from robin o'erhead. 
While the sound contagious, thrilling the vein, 
Brought Willie's whistle from pocket again, 
And a full according dissonance 
Their musical merits to each enhance. 



Sudden a pause, — " Why, Arthur, I — 
I dess dran father' 11 not mind it ; I — 
Dranmamma'U let us. I'm doin' to try. 
I want my flag on Jack just like, 
Like Lamar fixted the mules an' Smike, 



75 



76 EDITH. 

An' Snap, when Drant was 'lected ; an' I — '■ — 
Oh, yonner they come !" And the gate flew wide, 
While at a quiet, leisurely walk 
Came the mild object of their talk. 



ARTHUR. 

*' Please, grandfather, we want to ride." 

DAVID. 

" Well, boys, come round to the other side 
And step in." 

WILLIE. 

'* Why, dranfather, oh ! 
I'se a page, — I'se Archie, — and Arthur is Joe. 
He's a trooper ; an' we want our flags way up high 
On the horses, 'cause 'ts Edith's birthday, don't thee 
know?" 

DAVID. 

*' A trooper? What means that? A trooper; so, so ; 
And a page with white dress and blue ribbons, — oh, ho ! 
The birthday, — oh, yes, we all know that. But why 
Must the birthday have flags, little Willie ? Draw nigh. 
And step into the carriage." 

ARTHUR. 

'' Grandfather, we mean 
'Cause we're all playing fairies, and Nellie is queen, 
And we have to bring thee a-riding." 



EDITH. 



77 



DAVID. 

" Well, well. 
But the fairies ride broom-sticks, so I have heard tell ; 
And what of that, Arthur?" 



WILLIE. 

*'Why, dranfather, why. 
We is play-fairies, all of us, an' Arthur an' I. 
I'se a page ; an' Lamar says that is the way 
We must all be so nice, 'cause it's Edith's birthday ; 
An' we wants our flags up there, 'cause Arthur is Joe, 
An' Dreneral Washinton he rided so ; 
In my new book I'll show thee it. Now, don't thee 

know? 
Please, dranmamma." Out with a quiet smile 
She had looked on the eager eyes ; the while 
Thoughts of her own brave boy came back 
On the paining links of memory's track. 
While the sad, low throbs of her heart confess 
The battle of the Wilderness, 
Where, bending o'er with pitying glance 
The horror-laden ambulance. 
With skill to heal, with hand to save 
His honored country's wounded brave, 
His bright young manhood met a grave. 
7* 



78 EDITH. 

Ah ! strong hearts bowed, while true men died. 
She threw the quivering pain aside, 
And mildly to the call replied. 



ESTHER. 

*' The horses are quiet, the distance is short ; 

David, some duty in childish sport 

Is with them ; they are so in earnest, and they 

Are boys. Might they not in their whimsical play 

Be indulged?" With a quiet "so, so," 

David answers, " Well, well, I suppose so. I know 

Small profit such play hath. However, well, boys, 

Put them in as you wish." With an eager up-poise, 

The mimic flags twine in the mane, and the fold 

Of the stars, and the stripes to the wind is unrolled. 

Over the bridge, where the bright waters leaping 
Low trammel the ear with the mists of its rune ; 

Under the boughs, where the dense shadows sleeping' 
Are rich with the glad notes the song-birds intune-j 

O'er the low grass where the dews of the night 

Still rival the prism in changes of light. 

Moves the slow, steady team, with the boyish outburst 

Of the fresh hearts, with answer, and question athirst. 



EDITH. 79 

With smile surprised, the grandsires now 
Hear the bright trumpet's sudden glee, 

While frolic forms in laughing mirth 
Spring up from path, and shrubbery, 

And round them close, and bear them on 

With mimic force, where brightly shone 
Their tryst beneath the tulip-tree. 

'* Sit down, grandfather, sit down," they cry ; 
" And sit, grandmamma, with Edith nigh. 
See, we have woven our bower of state. 
And ye will preside? Dearest parents, we wait 

On your word. We are fairies, — we come and go ; 
We are elfs from the weird land, and waifs from the 

wild ; 
We are mystical Undines, sun-lift piled. 
And our Aphrodites from the waters below 
Are the greenest of sea-nymphs; just see them \ and, oh ! 
Say but the word, and our genii shall spring 
From the earth-mists, the wealth of our wonders to 

bring." 

Smilingly, lovingly, Esther down. 

As the merry prattle around them rose, 
Stooped, kissing the rosebud lips of those, 

And smoothing the locks on each glossy crown ; 



8o EDITH. 

But a look of almost stern distress 
Lay on the grandsire's quietness. 

''Anna," he said, "these children of thine 
I fear too much to the world incline ; 
From these pernicious books they read 
Must rise the growth of evil seed. 
Not this the way thy fathers walked. 
Nor knewest thou this idle talk ; 
Each new departure from old ways 
Brings weakness on these later days." 

" Dear father," whispers her low, calm voice, 
" Let us drop in the children's mood to-day ^; 

The harvest shall bid us all rejoice, 

For our seed in the furrows of love we'll lay. 
And the warmth that lifts the germ must garner the 
fruitage-day. 

" Too heavily down on our childhood's heart 
Oft falleth the weight of our riper years ; 

We have robed our youth as the brides of Christ, 
Oft with rejoicing, yet oft with tears ; 

Let us bide His will, for the Lord will call 
His own when His time in time appears. 



EDITH. 

*' Sow we our seed in prayer, and faith, 
Knowing the Father will guide, and hear, 

Whilst we watch, and prune, as the spirit saith, 
Away from envy, deceit, and fear. 

Shall not the unseen Love smile down 

On the innocent gladness which meets Him here?' 

''And, David," with her quiet smile 

Spake Esther, "'tis unusual, dear. 
That thou and I should thus be set ; 

Yet let us not with silver hair 
The gladness of our youth forget. 
Nor lose that He of Nazareth 

With gaze of interest looked upon 
The children of the market-place. 
Whose piping songs, and dancing pace, 

No censure from His spirit won. 
Like His, our work may be to start 
A wiser thought in some young heart. 

" Here, Nellie, take my bonnet, dear, 
And smooth my cap with fingers light, 

And, Alice, closer draw my shawl ; 

How thankful to the Lord of all 

For life, for love, this morning bright 



82 EDITH. 

We should be ! My beloveds, be still, 
A few brief moments seek His will." 

Obedient sank each light form prone 
On the soft grass ; rhght well they knew 

Grandmamma's habit ; her sweet tone 
With talismanic power drew 

Ever each young heart nigh her. Now 

A deep hush sealed each lip and brow. 

'Twas a fair scene ; in green enfold. 
Its emerald all alit with gold, 
Away the broken country rolled. 
Warm in its sunbright radiance, far 

Sloped hill and valley, interchanging 
With darker woodland belts the rare 
Soft tints of early spring; and there 
From freshened furrows rose the maize. 
Plume-like, to greet the sun's broad gaze, 
And grain-fields sweet in freshness bent. 

The light breeze o'er them rippling, ranging ; 
The kine upon the sloping hills ; 

The waters in their rapid flow ; 
The pleasant farm-homes, cool and still ; 

Look out upon the morning glow 
In all the calm of sweet content. 



EDITH. 83 

Nearer around them, dim and deep, 

The cool, continuous shadows sweep. 

Where through the pines the breeze was swaying, 

While tall trees watched their leaflets playing, 

And the squirrel poised on his branch to throw 

A curious gaze on the group below. 

Around the stately tulip-tree, 

Whose smooth, firm bole ascended clear 
Some threescore feet above, there wound 

A dainty rustic seat, and here 
The glad young artists had essayed 

A graceful canopy to rear. 
With knotted columns ivy-twined, 

And roof of grape-vines interlaced. 
Draped with the delicate ferns of spring 

In quaint designs, all deftly traced. 
Whose weird-like symbols, and mystic rings. 
Inlaid with floral blossomings, 
A hidden imagery enshrined 
To young eyes deep in storied lore, 
With whom the sieve on the open sea 
Contained as truthful a mystery 
As famed Aladdin's wonderful wiles. 
And the sudden rise of the palace of smiles, 
With its magical richness welling o'er, 
Was as true as the truth of the Koh-i-noor. 



S4 EDITH. 

And as each with gift, and moss-wreath laden, 
A band of cousins, merry, and free, 
Had come in the morning's open hour • 
To build for the birthday /^/^ a bower. 
As a first surprise to the little maiden — 
They had heightened their work's solemnity 
By many a bit of brave romance 
Culled from historic times, and chance; 
And many a page, for childish wonder 
Was thrown to the wee ones gazing under ; 
Whilst apt citations of spell and faery 
Were woven with glee in the fabric airy. 
As the clear-eyed talkers, laughing, ran 
From First-day school to Ghengis Khan, 
Till their all was wrapt in its mystery. 

Now hushed in silent reverence sat 
The waiting group, the two-year wean 

Nestling in loving confidence 

In the warm fold of sweet sixteen, 

While tall young lads with frank, clear eyes. 

Noted with quiet heed the grandsire's look serene. 

A large grave man, whose face expressed. 
In lines from inward conflict caught, 



EDITH. 85 

That mild resolve, whose conscious rest 

Is born of pain, and holiest thought, 
A look of settled peace, which says, 

"The goal is near, the fight is fought." 
With air of simple dignity, 

As one who having borne the toil 
Of life, had conquered, and would fain 

Shield others from the same assoil. 

As silently he sate, the while 

Communing with the inward word. 

The kindly heart relaxed its hold 

On sterner thought, and in him stirred 

The in- word, *'They who work in faith 
Shall find in me their work preferred." 

Around him circled, hand in hand. 

The childish forms ; an eager light 
Lay in each eye, as fearing much 

Their glad play might not fall aright. 
And in each young heart's hope he read 

A dread, dim-shadowing delight. 

He spoke, — "Well, children, be it so; 

Be fairies if your play so choose. 
If but each young heart holds aright 

The first love in its morning dews. 



S6 EDITH. 

Sit nearer, Edith, may this sport 
A wholesome influence diffuse. 

We wait these fairy messengers. 
Is that right, Nellie?" 

"Father, thanks; 
I knew thy love could not refuse 

Or sadden these unwonted pranks," 
Laughed Anna, as a glad acclaim 

Rose grateful from the childish ranks, 
"Who circle round them, hand in hand. 
While Alice takes the speaker's stand. 

" Oh, list to the Fairies' greeting, 

To the Fays in the woodlands meeting. 

As we gather from homes afar. 

Lo ! we come from the Orient's sweetness. 

Where the pearl, and the opal glows ; 
We bring Nevada's treasures ; 

And Denver's wealth disclose ; 
Where the lights of the nordlands glimmer 

We have brought of its simple truth ; 
Where the Indian oceans shimmer 

We have gathered the warmth of youth \ 
With the delicate gifts of our far renown 
We come the birthday queen to crown. 



EDITH. 87 

"We have treasures of hidden knowledge, 

We have books of wondrous might, 
Which throw on the human spirit a charm 

Of measureless delight ; 
With the witching grace of the weirdland, 

Bend we thus to the haunts of man, 
For the force of our magical power 

Has been since time began. 
Receive in its weight what the fairies unfold, 
Great is their power to give and to hold." 

A smothered laugh from the gleeful throng 
Somewhat the speaker's words prolong. 
As a look of half-amused surprise 
Lay in the grandsire's thoughtful eyes, 
And quietly taking their playful strain. 
His measured words respond again. 

DAVID. 

"Bring, then, from those hidden treasures, 
From this wealth of far renown. 
The gifts I ask. Her innocence 
Seal ye with Virtue's clearest sense. 

Which lives in truth alone, 
That ever, as dross beneath her feet, 
Earth's false delights may fall, nor meet 

To mar her life's high tone." 



88 EDITH. 

A merry whisper through them passed, 

When, with a roguish pleasure, 
A box of bonbons, quickly planned. 
Was placed by Cousin Abner's hand 
Beneath her slipper's measure. 



The brown eyes lifted. " Grandfather, 
I'll share my share to-morrow 

With poor lame Harry by the mill ; 
He is sick, and they have sorrow." 

The smile that lit each radiant face 
New sweetness seemed to borrow. 



While Nellie's words demurely drest : 
" Obedient to thy wise behest. 
Thus fill the Fays thy first request." 

He smiled. " Now bring her Knowledge, 
That the spirit of worldly pride 

May bend, subdued, as a broad, clear light. 
In her soul is sanctified. 

Seal her child-heart to the beautiful True, 

Knowing the right, with a love to do. 
And her joy shall be multiplied." 



EDITH. 89 

Again the whispered council passed, 

And "Books, our books," was the low reply; 

And tripping feet with sudden glide, 

Dropping their gifts by Edith's side, 
Flitted with rapid movement by. 

While gravely Nellie's clear voice rings, 
" See, we have gathered from many a spring 
Of delicate knowledge this offering ; 
Name yet another our power to try." 

DAVID. 

'* Bring, then, with firmest strength, the force 

That Temperance gives the heart. 
So that self, with grasping, covetous will, 

Shall find in her no part ; 
For the world will lure to its evil ways. 
Crown ye the joy of moderate days, 

Refined, and free from art." 

Moments of rapid thought assumed 
A long-drawn tension, ere the look 

In Nellie's laughing eyes resumed 
Its wonted clearness ; then she shook 

Her light curls with a sudden toss, 
As quick resolve her purpose took. 
8* 



90 



EDITH. 

They chose a spray of smilax frail, 
With strawberry blooms, and lilies pale, 
And over her shoulders round, and fair, 
Lifting the wealth of her ringlets rare, 
They laid the delicate wreath at rest, 
With a sprig of broom on the tender breast. 



Parted the group expectant round, 

As radiant Nellie answer found, — 

'' Humble worth in self-denial, 

Purity in days of trial. 

Lofty aims all truth allied, 

See the pledge in this supplied." 



Smiling, the grandsire met the smile 
Which beamed observant round the while. 



Then, gravely, ''Seal her nature now 

With Patience, rich with light. 
Gentle and restful. Though her path 

Lead on through clouds of night. 
Let faith in the Christ her love renew. 
And as God is one, she shall know Him true. 

As she seeks to obey aright." 



EDITH. 

A wee bright girl, whose chubby hands 
Could scarce her offering hold in lure, 

Came forward, and in Edith's lap, 
With soft-blue ribbon leash secure. 

Laid now her gift, a snow-white dove, — 
Giver and given meek and pure. 

NELLIE. 

" See Love and Patience in life-long thrall 
Meet in this gift, wee Mary's all." 

The fair child nestled by Edith's side, 

A smile of sympathy each to each 

Flashed out ; there was no need of speech 
O'er the priceless pledge, so love allied. 

The silent compact each gazer bound, 

While a restful quietness sank around. 
It passed. 

" Now crown a higher grace 

In ' Godliness of Soul.' 
When the young heart, taught by the voice of truth. 

Grows strong 'neath its control, 
Reading that good is meant for all ; 
Free, when the Prince of Peace shall call 

His great work on to roll." 



91 



92 EDITH. 

Alice, and Philip, cousins twain. 
Place now at wondering Edith's feet 

A group, where shrank a flying slave, 
And three tall forms with brows replete 

With holy sense of right, looked on 

As half to life uprisen, resolved her cause be won. 

NELLIE. 

*' See, kindles 'neath the sculptor's moulding 
Love of right in each beholding. 

Oh ! grandly, and free, as the sweep of the. sea 
Quickens the heart 'neath arts unfolding ; 
Emblems of an high endeavor, 
Filling life, forever, ever. 
With a purpose undismayed, 
Thus the seal we set is laid." 

Quietly rested the grandsire now. 

As he noted the thought on each upturned brow, 

Then gently spoke, reflective, slow, — 

*' With these should come a fuller joy, 

As Brotherly love conveys 
In its calm, and holy confidence, 

The zest of restful days, 



EDITH. 93 

So open her trained thought, and seal 
Her anchored faith, where faith may kneel 
As it hymns its maker's praise." 

The watchful thought in Nellie's eye 
Flashed into light as she made reply,— 

" We read thy riddle, we see, we see 
That ^The seventh and last will be Charity;' 
The ' cardinal virtues' crowned must be. 
Up, fairies ! up from your haunts ! behold ! 
Neither with gems, nor yet with gold, 

Nor the wealth of the sea 

Shall the earth-rites be. 
Nor the coral trinkets, so deft, and bold. 

Oh ! the crooning wail 

Of our midnight sail 
Must sink to a murmur low, and dree. 

" Up, with fingers apt and fleet. 

Up, with quick, and noiseless feet. 

Weave ye, with choicest skill, the crown 

Which gracefully down 

On a brow as pure as a martyr's sigh 

When the end is nigh. 

And as fair as the snow-spray reeling on 

Upon ocean's lift when the storm has flown. 



94 



EDITH. 

" Soft let it rest, 
With a blessing prest 
From lips we honor, 
Whose touch upon her 

For life a memory blest will be. 

'^ Twine ye ivy for love's own winning, 
Bouvardia for life's pure beginning; 

When its cross hath neither a shade or blot, 
To sully the sweeter charity, 
Our daisies brotherly love shall be. 
And the silken cord without and within, 
Close in front with the amethyst pin, 

Draped in a sweet forget-me-not. 

*' Now, king of onrfefe,'' cried joyous Nellie, — 
And her dimpled cheek to a warmer flush 
Glowed in the joy of her triumph blush, — 
•' See, the Fairies' work is over; 
Yet we linger, yet we hover 

Round her till the crowning blessing. 
Till thy touch, august, and ready, 
Till thy will, defined, and steady. 
Looking far through the portal 
Dim, shading, the mortal. 
Leads, guides the immortal 

To purer possessing. 



EDITH. 



95 



" Hushed and awaiting, our gift we proffer, 
Meet symbols of earth-life, thus we offer." 

A touch almost of awe arose 

With Nellie's words, unconsciously 
To her bright self; around her, those 

Whose years mature could smile to see 

The roll of childish pleasantry, 
Stirred to the thought that all on earth 
Is destined, through the gentler birth 
Of good within, to give abroad 
A conscious unity, accord 
With the heart's reverent '' Love to God ;" 
That childhood's play, maturer thought, 
The aims of life, all, grandly brought 
Through simplest lift of prayer, before 
The unseen eye, takes fuller scope 
As peace unmeasured springs to meet the call of Hope. 

There's a spirit presence that dwelleth in man, 
And it bideth in him through time, and tide ; 

Over the dial of passing events 
Its shadow, unseen, is felt to glide. 

The crafty plotters of wrong may build 
Their works of evil, and deem they hold. 



96 EDITH. 

'Neath an outward hush, and a studied smile, 

The knowledge of all they weave, and mould ; 
But come in the path of him, whose soul 

In the light of truth hath lived alway, 
And the spirit presence which bideth in him 

Will read that wrong as the light of day, 
While its shadow falls with a dim unrest 

On the soul of him who hath gone astray. 

Oh for the confidence fuller, clearer, 

Oh for the faith to feel, to know 
That the light within in the souls of men 
Is the same to-day, the same as when 
It spoke to man in the Eden of then, 

In the Eden of innocence long ago, 
When the twilight hush on the thought was lying, 
And the longings of earth were fainting, dying. 

Drooping away from the judgments within. 
When the still small voice to the spirit ear 
Rang as a summons distinct and clear, 
While the step of the Lord seemed gliding near, 

And the sinner bent low 'neath the weight of his sin. 
Oh for the confidence pure and true, 

Which, folding this wealth of the past aside. 
Comes with a strength ever given anew 

To gather our manna at morn's clear tide, 



EDITH. 

Our manna which falleth fresh, white as then, 
And is more to our world's great life to-day 
Than aught that floats from the misty gray 
Of the beautiful, saddened past, to lay 

A leaden weight on the hearts of men. 

Gravely the grandsire rose ; his form 
Massive, and tall, yet scarcely bent 
With weight of passing years, whose flight 
Through eighty summers backward sent 
Their deep-grooved memories' varied light. 
A farmer's life of action, health. 
The hush of quiet hours, the wealth 
Of home's best joys, all, haply lent 
Firmness to nerve, to mind content. 
Lifting the broad-brimmed hat which pressed 
His scant white locks, he stood at rest. 



Beside him, with a purpose warm 

With love's own thoughtfulness, imprest 

To. lift the hands which else perchance 
Might drooping fail, rose Esther, best 
Beloved by all. That love confest 

Lay on her brow, and when she smiled 

Her warm, sweet charity, beguiled 

9 



97 



EDITH. 

The troubled heart to peace. A glow 
Of merry interest lay beneath, 
As these, the weavers of the wreath, 
Stood, mutely wondering what new thought 
Would to their puzzled minds be brought ; 
For well they knew, while kind, and true, 
A moral lesson would be taught. 

Slow smiling, with a kindly grace. 
He took the young child's hand, her face, 
Rose-tinted with expectant wonder. 
Turned to her comrades gay, as under 
The dainty wreath which Esther's hand 
Received, and held, she waits command. 

DAVID. 

" The king who giveth word, and power, 

Is ever nigh, to Him we turn, 
Asking that on this play-wrought hour 

May fall that grace our lives may learn : 
And, learned in happy childhood, much 

Of pain goes from you, and distress 
Knowing Him friend, — I ask for you 

To love Him more, and lose Him less. 
And I would on your minds impress 

These deep truths, opened us by Paul, 



EDITH. 

Which his clear wisdom would express 

As seven virtues, building all 
The structure of a noble life, 
Leading that life to perfectness. 
Virtue, the unspoiled human heart ; 

Knowledge, to know all right as good ; 
Temperance, to quench undue desires ; 

Patience, love truly understood ; 
And Godliness, as squaring all 

Our lives should live, in truth, and faith ; 
And calm Fraternal love, which strikes 

A chord in all the spirit saith ; — 
Heed well these steps which lead you free 
To the high Christ-gift, Charity. 

** I would my sons, and daughters bright, 
With all their learned lore, and light, 
So different from the even flow 
Of young life sixty years ago, — 
When in our pioneering strife 
We little knew of cultured life, — 
Would cling to one thing dear to me 
That guarded sweet simplicity. 
In which the truth makes all things free. 
And now we crown our birthday queen 
With honors — may their fruit be seen." 



99 



loo EDITH. 

As Esther, smiling, stooped, and laid 
The fragile wreath so gayly made 
Upon her brow, — "I ask for thee 
The grandeur of humility; 
May God's dear blessing on thee fall. 
And with His blessing crown you all !" 

Stooping, the tall man raised the child, 

And folded her with warm caress ; 
But Esther spied the starting tear. 

Telling of more than words express. 
And smiled, and spoke right cheerily. 
While all the thronging urchins vie 
Greeting the lady of the fete 
In glad, confusing joy elate, 
And turning then, all voices meet, 
Giving the grandsire promise sweet. 

Said Alice, *^Be I nymph or fairy, 
Grandfather, I will ne'er be airy ; 
But in my life must twine the good 
Of honest Quaker womanhood." 
Cried sturdy boys, *' Doubt not, our work 
Disdains alike to fear, or skirk ; 
With sobered judgment, honest men. 
We'll cast our lot with Fox, and Penn." 



EDITH. lOi 

Laughed Nellie, ''Ere I don the bonnet, 
Dear parents, let me write my sonnet, 

And skip, and play, while glide away 
Whatever doubts may rest upon it ; — 
Then in my soberest armor drest, 
I'll join the ranks, and aid the rest, 
Each with your own pure lives imprest. 
Think not our childish meeting play. 

Perched silent on the school-room benches. 
Our preaching with a grave display 
What dear Lucretia's love might say. 
Remembered from the last First day 

(With sundry doubts and sundry wrenches), 
Will ever, ever, pass away. 
We'll bear our noble leaders up. 

And sift Macaulay's keen researches, — 
And show the Christ-word lifts a man 

With royal right o'er human lurches, 
While tempered is our work, with thought 
Of you, from whom our light is caught." 

And the spirit-presence with loving pow:er 
Restingly lay on the morning hour. 



PART FOURTH. 

The waning June, with each sweet refrain, — 
The light mist fringing the alders low. 
The trill of the Hyla lengthened, slow. 

On the moist air boding the coming rain ; 
The resolute peal of the Bufo's cry. 
As she cheeringly springs from covert nigh, 

And wends her way to the tryst again ; — 
And the night-hawk's lonely cry, the dash 

Of his sudden plunge to the meadow below : 
While traileth the fire-flies' luminous flash 

Till the dark woods sparkle with tinsel glow ; 
While the whippoorwill's song, so glad, and far, 
From the tangled copse where the deep glooms are, 

Ringeth away on the hush of the night — 

The old familiar sounds of the night. 

Telling anew the renewed delight. 

As the dewy hours drop down to meet 

The stir, and glow of the harvest heat. 



EDITH. 

Wakes there a chord of joy that we miss 
From the perfect whole of a June day's bliss, 
When the heart hath garnered no undue care ? 
Oh ! to lie in the outer air 
On the velvety green by the new-mown hay, 
Watching the cloud-folds, gathering play 
With the reaper's rattle just faint away, — 

Alone, in the luscious month of June, 
When the dark leaves sway in an anthem alway, 

While the shadows lie hushed on the noon. 
And the old oak tells, to the poplar bells 

What the whispered spells intune. 
While the luminous air grows rich and rare. 

With the weight of the mystic rune. 



Ah ! the tale they whisper hath notes as strange 
As the Peris' wings, who mount, and range 

Away to the dim empyrean blue \ 
The honey-bee lurks on the wild-rose stem, 
Rifling the sweets of its diadem. 

While the purpling shadows fall dimly through, 
She listens, and bears the story from them. 
And the leaf, and the tree, are telling to me 
The song of the beautiful mystery, — 
The song that filleth creation's plan, 
Only unheard by the senses of man, — 



105 



I04 



EDITH. 



The honey-bee drops to the clover-bloom, 
Foldeth her wing, just for a minute. 
Close to mine ear, and whispers within it 

The self-same song ; but the sweet perfume 
And the human senses, ever astart, 
Drown all but the key-note down in my heart. 
Can we, will we ever attain 
To read the wondrous, slumbrous strain, 
Floating through nature's rapt domain ? 



With a chirrup that startles, so close, so loud, 
The cricket glides from his hall of state ; 
Just under the stone where the shadows wait, 
And the gray rock's lift, bends slopingly down. 
He keepeth his palace, the burnished brown 
Of his coat I see where the Orchis heaves 
In its upward growth the sere dry leaves. 

Their tessellate arches around him crowd. 
What nameless quest, what unsung foray, 

Lures thee abroad, blithe woodland rover? 
Too luscious the air for the dim repose 

Of thy curtained room, when the scent of the clover 
Weighs faintly around, and the odors meet 
Of the myriad blossoms that crowd at my feet, 
And round thy rock's rude pedestal greet? 



EDITH. 



105 



There every fissure gives root, and place, 
To the delicate ferns' unfolding grace \ 
And never did wild brier toss away 
From upland rift a daintier spray ; 
And never did richer moss than here 
Its courts, and towers, and grooves uprear, 
With its crimsoned bud, a regal gem 
As a glory crowning its slender stem ; 
And never did lichens curl and cluster 
With lovelier tints and livelier lustre 
Than grace thy rocky haunt. 

Above, 
The wood-robin's song, the song we love, 
Thrilleth, and filleth the heart, and the grove, 
Tender, and mellow, and liquidly clear, 
Its exquisite dignity rests on the ear. 
Oh ! bird of the forest, thou bringest to me 
The pain that saddens a memory 
For she whose spirit so drank thy tone. 
Whose sweet voice rivalled thine own, thine own. 
As with eye, and ear, enrapt, attent. 
Through all her being thy melody went. 

As she, answering, gave thee note for note. 
While through thy wild haunts, lone, and wary. 
With Bonnie Doon, and Highland Mary, 

Her untaught songs would gladly float. 



Io6 . EDITH. 

Thy song o'er the woodlands is swelling, and breaking, 
She sleepeth the sleep that knows not waking, 
And the world falls dreary. 



Gather the cloud-folds ; rolling dun 

The massive blocks pile into one ; 

Down their dark nucleus in the west 

As yet the muttering thunders rest ; 

But their signal has flown through the air, and the earth. 

And a shadow of dread, in the warning has birth. 

Light wings cleave the sultry air. 

Hurriedly to covert flying, 
Huddle the sheep for the shepherd care. 

And the young lambs plead with a plaintive crying; 
From pastures deep, the grazing herds 

Snuff" the changed air, slow homeward tending; 
With fallen crest, bold chanticleer. 
Regardless of his harem near. 

To shelter cautiously is wending ; 
With wild, clear cry, and stately air, 

The slow geese leave the water's flow ; 
From upland fields the jubilant ducks 

With ceaseless call, and answer go : 
They scent the promise of coming cheer, 
When the rain shall plash, and the floods appear ; 



EDITH. 

While mindful of all the little duties, 
The cares that round her pathway lie, 

The farmer's wife '^seeth well to her householdj 
As the storm-cloud's centre is rolling nigh. 



With quickened step, and ready will, 
The workmen test their farming skill 

In gathering the hay ; 
The windrows rise in gradual length 
As plies the raker, speed, and strength. 
The fragrant heaps are tossed amain. 
And lightly fill the loading wain, 
While willing hands, and muscles strain 
The shelter of the barn to gain, 
Replacing in its measured train 

The team that glides away ; 
The huge fork lifts the load in air 
With sturdy sweeps, descending where 
The ample mows receive, and bear 

The harvest's, rich display. 
No time to cool the heated brow. 
Or dally with remissness now, 
And glad the shout, when, 'neath the mow 
The last load stands, while near, and low 

Growls the deep thunder's play. 



107 



io8 EDITH. 

Dark in its heavy front advancing, 

Lit casual with the lightning's glancing, 

While the quick' ning thunders shudder, and break, 

On the hot, still air, in the rain-clouds' wake, 

Sweeps on the gathering storm, anear 
With ragged edges, shifting, changing. 
Luridly dark, and restlessly ranging. 
The low scud stoops, while the breath of the wind 
Follows in rapid career behind. 

Morris steps on the terrace and pauses to laugh. 

* ■ 

MORRIS. 

*^ Enthusiast, coming the tempest to quaff?" 

ANNA. - 

" The poultry are folded, the dairy has gone. 
Thy pensioners cared for, my duties are done. 
See, Morris, the grandeur, the glories that rise 
In the film of the cloud as it sweeps o'er the skies. 
Come learn of its mission, all humble, and wise." 

MORRIS. 

"In the war of the elements readest thou then 
A lesson that links with the logic of men ?" 



EDITH. 



109 



ANNA. 

"There's a lesson in all things to him who will read, 
And the logic of life is its call, and the need. 
See, thf gloom overspreads us, the strata above 
Lies in sunshine and azure, in light that we love ; 
But the cloud is upon us, the pores of the earth 
Like the pores of the soul need regenerate birth ; 
The lightnings of thought keenly flash through our life. 
But the thunders of passion bear down with their strife. 
Till the bolt, as conviction, — see yon as it falls 
On the woodlands before us, — our weak faith recalls. 
While the low falling rain, as it sinks on the plain. 
Like the smile of acceptance, brings gladness again ; 
So read we this lesson, in grateful accord. 
With this grandeur that moves in the might of the 
Lord." 

MORRIS. 

*' Come, moralist, cease thee. Come, Anna, within ; 
There is danger abroad in the tempest's wild din." 

ANNA. 

*' Is there ever a danger to those who have faith 
In the arm that encircles, the power which saith, 
' Ask ye in my name, and thy heart-wish shall be 
As thy truth is, accepted.' " 

10 



no 



EDITH. 



The storm has rolled to a distance, 
The sun breaks through the cloud, 

Once more the voice of the wood-bird 
Joins the reveille, full and loud, 

Which fills the earth with a glad acclaim 

Ere the vesper song is heard. 
Ere night unrolls her shroud. 



On the trees the sunbright welcome 

A thousand lamps have lit. 
Where the clear drops gather, and tremble, and fall, 

As the rainbow glories flit 

Through the bended arch, on the troubled east, 
While the promise outpoured on all 

Floats back in smiles to it. 



With eyes of sparkling gladness. 
With cheeks of roseate health. 
Sprang Edith out with her brothers 
To gather the day's last wealth. 

To trace the floods, to ford the streams, 
To aid in the shout of the others. 

When the musk-rat's small eye gleams, 
And they track his lair by stealth. 



EDirii. Ill 

The rainfall lies on the meadows, 

And sparkles the bending spray, 
While the bare feet of the merry child 

Dashes its beads away. 

Just as a child's foot ever should 
When reigneth Sirius mild 

And the warm south breezes play. 

The foot that bounds o'er the dewy lawn 

In the roseate flush of morning, 
Gathers a strength for the battle of life 

Which is ever a mute adorning, 

For the rose of health is a thing of joy, 
Nathless disdains weak strife 

Or pallid folly's scorning. 

We hold too close the vapid rules 

The world's whims bind together, 

The golden rule builds statesmen true. 

As youth bounds o'er the heather, 

Drinking its life-breath, freedom, love. 
Bursting forever new 

In the study by the grove. 

The sturdy gold of honest worth 
Grows best, when nature guides it 



112 EDITH. 

Through ways untrammelled by the sins 
Of luxury,' which hides it 

So deep in fashion's ruling lusts 
That childhood's innocency must 
Give way, when shod, and ruffled in 
A mood that ill betides it. 

The reign of a gentle common sense 

Must come with ages nearer. 
When Albert sat with England's queen, 

Brighter it grew, and clearer. 

While the world looked on, and smiled to note. 
Through pathways all unseen. 

Its life-food growing dearer. 

We read of life at Balmoral, 

And joyed to see the honor 
Which nature in her holy truth 

Had royally laid on her ; 

The bright gem in Victoria's crown 
Was living God's sweet youth 

In the love truth which had won her. 

Oh ! blessed gift of country life. 

Thy purity and pleasure, 
To seeing eyes, and thinking minds, 

Are not in stinted measure. 



EDITH. 

We claim for childhood's hours of gold 
The fresh, pure thought, by wood, and wold, 
The scholars' lore for winter's chills, 
The bare feet by the summer's rills. 
The loveliness which gladness wills. 
Unheeding the refrain 
To mould a model's treasure. 



Rings Edith's musical laughter ; 

The joyous country child. 
In the freedom born, in life's young morn, 

'Mid the myriad beauties wild 

Which feed her thought, with a purity caught. 
In lines where God hath worn, 

The path for the unbeguiled. 

Now fording the rush of the waters. 

Hand, in hand, they fearless go. 

Now leaping the light embankment 

Where the mill-race falleth low ; 

Skimming the boat o'er the lakelet's breast ; 
Scaring the crane from the trout's sly nest; 
Seeking through childhood's curious eyes, 
With the happy aptness lent. 
All unknown things to know. 



113 



114 EDITH. 

She stands alone by the water, 

Her playmates far across, 
With her apron rich in woodland trove, 

Fresh buds, and freshened moss. 
Shall she stem the force of its rude uproar? 

Can she spring like a sea-bird light. 
And land on the opposite shore ? 



The twilight drops around her. 

The lights of home are bright. 

The copse-wood which surround her 

Grow dim with closing night ; 

The rabbit leaps from his covert nigh. 
The squirrel sends down his sharp good-by ; 
Just glimmers the first faint star. 
Reproachful upon her sight. 



Irresolute for the moment, 

When calmly on her ear 
Her mother's voice falls gently. 

And her counsel stilleth fear, — 
" Commit thy ways unto the Lord, 
And He will make for thee 

Thy pathway ever clear." 



EDITH. 

With a backward step and a sudden joy, 
And an upward smile, she springeth ; 

The lithe form gains the distant bank, 
And her light laughter ringeth, — 

*^ Mamma, there was so much to see : 
The thrush's nest is safe. 

The old fox showed his brush to me, 

And the partridge by the clump of corn 

Of clear, white eggs has three." 

The harvest moons have waned, and gone, 

Their flooded light its work has wrought ; 
Stacked is the wheat, and groweth the corn. 
The yellow stubble, so sere, and lorn, 
A tint of livelier green has caught; 
From quiet coverts, daintily hid. 
Comes up the cry of the katydid ; 
A faint, and delicate tone, not yet 
Full chorussed is the concert set 

Which charms the later after- math ; 
The cricket's chirp is heard between : 
He counteth his measure well, I ween. 
In regular rhythm, shrill and low. 
Like the timid touch of a school-boy's bow. 
The heat of the noonday lingers still 
On the breeze that flutters adown the hill,. 



"5 



Il6 EDITH. 

With the scent of the corn-fields borne away 
From its generous growth and silken spray ; 
The cooling rush of the waterfall 
Suggests a pleasant repose to all, 

As the mill-wheel's whirr drops down its stir, 
While the night-buds bend in their dewy bath, 
And the soft night whispers her quiet call. 

The moon has gone, the stars alone 

Look down from the lustrous sky ; 
The arching dome looms upward from 

The great wide world, so high, 
Alas ! that it looketh on shame and wrong 

In the night scenes moving by. 

The angel-presence of life, and death 

Moves patiently, and slow : 
There falleth joy to the lot of some. 

To some the bitter woe ; 
The healing years alone can tell 

To which the blessings flow. 

God doeth all things well, and yet, 

All seething in his sorrow, 
Man holds impatient in his hand 

The bud that blooms to-morrow ; 



EDITH. 

And joy upholds its glittering farce 

Strength, from earth's strength, to borrow. 

The stars look down, nor mist, nor frown. 
Bear they to unstained gladness. 

The pure heart drinks their draught with joy, 
Or with a happy sadness ; 

With what reproach they look on some. 

Whose faith falls prostrate 'neath a gloom 
Unread by misery's madness ! 

Ah ! pained eyes, that long for eyes 

Whose sweetness meets them never, 
Shut out, with pain, the flowers below, 

Shut out the bright stars ever ; 
The years that glide, and bring the years 
Will build the faith, will dry the tears, 
While the blessed Christ-hope reappears : 

But the golden bowl is broken. 
The cistern's wealth wells clear, and nigh, 
The great Love pitying lingers by. 
But never the stars look bright again. 

Though the word of grace be spoken, 
For earth is weighed ; the quivering bar 
Which holds the holiest gate ajar 
Reveals where the loved, and lost ones are. 

And the heart accepts the token ; 



117 



Ii8 EDITH. 

But never the stars grow bright again, 

Or the song-birds sing with the old refrain, 

Or the sweet earth lulls the weary pain 

Which nestles amid the peace. 

The grand triumphant peace. 
Which sweeps to the soul from the throne of God, 
When the staff has burst from the living rod. 
And the path which the loved, and the loving trod, 

Grows bright with the near release. 

The curtains sway in the night breeze, 

Falling soft, and cool, and white, 
As she sits in quiet musing, 

'Mid her chamber's shadowy light, 
All thoughtfully sits Edith, 

Wrapt in dreamings of delight. 

Born to the high endowment 

Of clear, and earnest thought. 
Which yet, in childhood's plastic powers, 

Is but as an image caught 
Fresh from an inward impulse thrown. 

Scarce by the thinker sought. 

So weaves she webs of beauty 
From the fairy-land of dreams. 



EDITH. 119 

Tracing the mythical intercourse 

Of what is, and what seems. 
And closing with a clasp of pearls. 

Where the real through it gleams. 



Oh ! childhood's thought, oh ! childhood's heart, 
With its instincts true, and tender. 

Moulding the commonest views of life 
With a rare poetic splendor. 

Building the highest, holiest hopes 
That hope may ever render. 

How oft, through years mature, and stern, 

The dazzle of your sweetness 
Comes back to teach the unfilled life 

Its weary incompleteness. 
While the heart recalls your high designs, 

And mourns your worth, and fleetness. 

She traces the old child-story 

Of "the eyrie, so lone, and gray: 
The white clouds sat on the eagle's crest, 

And the sun burned down alway. 
And the eagle looked out for miles, and miles 

O'er the valley of Chamouni. 



I20 EDITH. 

'*Up, up the great crags tower'd, and rose, 

The pine's root deep in the ground, 
And the waters dash, and roll, and splash 

At its base, with a talking sound. 
Like the wind, when it comes, and breaks, and drops^ 

And its breath just quivers around. 

" And the rocks, — the rocks are as feldspar white, — 

They glitter like gems in the mine ; 
When the moon looks down, and lights their stars, — 

I wonder if just such a shine 
Lit up the cave where Sindbad piled 
His diamonds, and rubies around him wild, 

And his gold, so vast and fine ? 

**I would hear the cry of the hungry brood 

As the eagle left her nest, 
And spread her great, wide wings to fly. 

With the sun-flame bright on her breast. 
Away for miles, and miles, to seek 

For the food they loved the best. 

" I would see the hamlet rude, and low 

Which down in the valley lay ; 
Oh ! the father has gone to mind the sheep. 

And the mother is far away, 



EDITH. 121 

And the dear little baby laughs aloud 
To hear the children play. 

''So good, and glad, with its bright, blue eyes. 

As it sat, and laughed, and cooed. 
While the cruel eagle flies on, and on. 

And over it poised, and stood. — 
Oh, my ! they can do nothing but scream, 

And that will do no good. 

*' I would hear the flap of the eagle's wing, 

And the baby's sorrowful crying, 
I would think of all its parents' pain. 

To the children's pain replying. 
While the cruel eagle sweeps on, and on. 

To her eyrie homeward flying. 

" I would launch my boat on the waters dark, — 

I would not be afraid ; 
* God loveth all who help the weak. 

They shall not be dismayed ;' 
I would skim my boat to the foot of the crag. 

And fasten it quick in the shade. 

''And up the cliff I would mount, and climb, 
I would climb it strong and fleetly, 
II 



122 EDITH. 

I would hold by the roots, and step in the clefts, 
Where the saxifrage blooms so sweetly. 

Maybe a snake might coil, and squirm ; 

Oh ! the baby's cries would make me firm, — 
I would be strong completely. 

** And up, and up the cliff, I would climb, 
Where it stoops, there I would hide me : 

I could slip my hand so quietly round, 
I would pray, 'Dear Father, guide me,' 

I would draw the baby closer, close." 
Here, with a start, turns Edith. 

Goes the imaged out, as the real brings 
The true thoughts shamed endeavor. 

''What makes me think such things?" she said ; 
" I could not do so ever ; 

I never was there. If I saw it all, 
I could save the baby never." 

She turns to the window, breathing 

The healthful real again j 
Like a hidden gleam of sunlight 

Falling athwart a dream of pain. 
Comes the quiet calm of the starlight rest 

On the memories which remain. 



EDITH. 



123 



The dippers are bright, and the pole-star's light 

Falls clear on the mariner's course to-night j 

Jupiter drops from the zenith anigh, 

Mars looks down with his fiery eye, 

Orion lies far to the southern zone. 

With the mists of the south-land 'neath him thrown. 

Venus with radiance fills the west. 

But Edith looks out on the hill-bound east ; 

The map of the star-sky many a day 

On Edith's memory thoughtful lay. 

With a loving smile she lingers. 

Gazing far into the sky, 
An indescribable beauty 

In its holiness seemed to lie, 
And the pure, warm thought of the sinless child 

Lay soft in the clear brown eye. 

And Edith knelt by the window, 

In the dim light all alone, — 
She prayed the prayer that Jesus taught : 

She prayed for her loved and own j 
Then her low, persistent prayer. 

Takes its sad, familiar tone. 

The measureless depth of the spirit grace 
Filled the child heart's swelling tide. 



124 



EDITH. 

As in tremulous strength her faith, and love, 
With her human sorrow vied, — • 

'' Oh, God ! bless Uncle Alan, 
And forgive him when he died." 

The sobbing heart of Edith 

Lulls for a moment's space, 
In her clasped hands, bending lowly, 

She drops her tear-washed face, 
A moment, and around her 

Unfolds a wondrous grace. 

A light, a conscious presence 
Mild, and lustrous, fills the air ; 

A voice sounds through her spirit's depths. 
Distinct, and full, and clear, — 

'' Do not ask it any more. 
Accepted is thy prayer. ' ' 

Flashed the light, a conscious presence. 

Mild, and lustrous on her sight ; 
Spoke the voice, her being thrilling, 

Thrilled the words, slow paled the light. 
All startled, up sprang Edith 

'Mid the loneness of the night, 
All startled, half a-tremble. 

With its suddenness and might. 



EDITH. 125 

" What was it?" murmured Edith, 

Looking inly on the scene, 
With her parted lips quick breathing ; 

"What did the brightness mean? 
What spoke the words ? what made the light ? 
I heard the words, I saw the light. 

What did, what does it mean?" 

A sense of strange amazement 

Lay upon Edith's will, 
The twilight dimness round her, 

The night-hush sweet, and still, — 
Through the awe that lay on every nerve 

Joy sent a timid thrill. 



Once more she turns to the star-sky, — 

*' There is no moon to-night j 
Maybe a shooting-star went by. 

Could I have seen its light ? 

Mine eyes were closed, I saw the light, 
I heard the words ; with my shut eyes 

I saw, and heard, the light, the words. 
Did God speak to me?" Oh, ye wise. 

Read the child's mission right. 



126 EDITH. 

The years that glide, and bring the years, 
Are rife with joy, are rife with fears ; 
Men build in hope; and oft in tears 

The structures built, decay. 
What matter if through pain, and spoil 
The gain which marks the end of toil, 
All purified in its annoil, 

Shall crown the slow-born day ? 
Life ever wears a golden glint, 
Fresh, freely poured from Mercy's mint, 
Would we but see its rainbow tint 

As glide the years away. 

7f yf- 7^ >f. 7^ 

Edith Aubrey grows apace. 
Fair in form, and fair in face. 
But fairest of all, in spirit-grace. 

Never a shadow seems to press 
On her young being's comeliness, 
To cloud a joy that all confess. 

If aught about her claims the eye, 
The quick gaze of the passer-by, 
'Tis her unconscious purity. 

The acquiescence in her dress. 

From the plain Quaker's graver stress. 

Avoids observance, nothing less. 



EDITH. 



127 



In all that marks her you may see 
The loftier simplicity, 
Which, quietly, and grandly worn, 
Holds no associates' views in scorn. 



The life she leads hath quiet tone, 
The scholar's studio open thrown, — 
The rich abandon knowledge brings 
In tracing nature's hidden springs, — 
The gentle home-rule, coloring thought; 
To its sweet grandliness hath brought 
The mind-tone, all unseen, unsought. 



And still, with trustful faith, she bends. 
And breathes her prayer, sincere, and true, 

Unquestioning whither it may tend, 
Undoubting, if her thought be new ; 

She meets the unseen Love at night, 
She meets it with the morning dew. 

But never did her heart again 

From that one night, repeat that quest ; 
Her prayer was answered, all her pain 

Had yielded to a perfect rest. 



128 EDITH. 

She questioned not, her life received 
The sunshine of a joy confest, 

And when she knelt, the unformed words 
In thanks ascended, — he was blest. 

She never prayed for him again 

Who led her young thought unto prayer : 

Somehow she felt that God smiled down 
Upon her work, and, rested there. 

Though thoughts of Alan oft returned 
His mem'ry brought nor pain, nor care. 

And never did Edith's lips unfold 
Her secret conflict ; it lay hid 
Deep in the silence of her heart 

For years unspoken, till one day 
A strong man doubted God's near grace, 
And as she, wondering, paused a space. 
All unreservedly it slid 

From her full soul, and nestling lay 
So eloquent her truth amid, 
That shame blushed on the doubter's face. 

And he went thoughtfully away. 



THE END. 



